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IN  THE  LEYANT. 


BY 


CHAELES  DUDLEY  WAENER, 

AUTHOR  OF 

"MT   SUMMER    IN    A    GARDEN,"    "BACK-LOG    STUDIES,"    "SAUNTERINGS," 

"  BADDECK,    AND   THAT    SORT   OF   THING,"    "  MY   WINTER 

ON  THE   NILE,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


HISBTEENTH   EDITION. 


BOSTON: 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY. 

W^t  EtijereiUe  Press,  CambriUffc. 

1894 


A-  0-5O 


CoiTKiGnT,  1876. 
Bt  CHAELES  DUDLEY  WAENEB. 


TO 


WILLIAM   D.  HOWELLS 


Notes  of  ©rtental  ^Crabel 


AEE    FKATEKNALLY    INSCKIBED. 


t 


PREFACE. 


TN  the  winter  and  spring  of  1875  the  writer  made  the 
-*-  tour  of  Egypt  and  the  Levant.  The  first  portion  of 
the  journey  is  described  in  a  volume  published  last  summer, 
entitled  "My  Winter  on  the  Nile,  among  Mummies  and 
Moslems  " ;  the  second  in  the  following  pages.  The  notes 
of  the  journey  were  taken  and  the  books  were  written  be- 
fore there  were  any  signs  of  the  present  Oriental  disturb- 
ances, and  the  observations  made  are  therefore  uncolored 
by  any  expectation  of  the  existing  state  of  affairs.  Signs 
enough  were  visible  of  a  transition  period,  extraordinary 
but  hopeful;  with  the  existence  of  poverty,  oppression, 
superstition,  and  ignorance  were  mingling  Occidental  and 
Christian  influences,  the  faint  beginnings  of  a  revival  of 
learning  and  the  stronger  pulsations  of  awakening  com- 
mercial and  industrial  life.  The  best  hope  of  this  revival 
was  their,  as  it  is  now,  in  peace  and  not  in  war. 

C.  D.  W. 
Hartford,  November  10, 1876. 


COTiTTENTS. 


Pagb 

I.  Feom  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem 1 

II.  Jeecsalem 26 

III.  Holt  Places  of  the  Holy  City 47 

IV.  Neighborhoods  of  Jerusalem 64 

V.  Going  dovtn  to  Jericho 87 

VI.  Bethlehem  and  Mar  Saba        .....  117 

VII.  The  Fair  of  Moses. — The  Armenian  Patriarch        .  140 

VIII.  Depasture  from  Jerusalem 147 

IX.  Along  the  Syrian  Coast 152 

X.  Beyrout.  —  Over  the  Lebanon         .        .        .        .  158 

XI.  Ba'albek 164 

XII.  On  the  Koad  to  Damascus 172 

XIII.  The  Oldest  of  Cities 178 

XIV.  Other  Sights  in  Damascus 191 

XV.  Some  Private  Houses 197 

XVI.  Some  Specimen  Travellers 205 

XVII.  Into  Daylight  AGAIN.  —  An  Episode  of  Turkish  Justice  214 

XVIII.  Cyprus 229 

XIX.  Through  Summer  Seas.  —  Rhodes    ....  243 


viii  CONTENTS. 

XX.  Among  the  jEgean  Islands 249 

XXI.  Smyrna  and  Ephesus 255 

XXII.  The  Adtenttjeees 267 

XXIII.  Theocgh  the  Daedanelles 273 

XXIV.  Constantinople     .        .  277 

XXV.  The  Seeaglio  and  St.  Sophia,  Hippodeome,  etc.  285 

XXVI.  Sauntebings  about  Constantinople  ....  297 

XXVII.  Feom  the  Golden  Hoen  to  the  Acropolis  .  323 

XXVIII.  Athens 338 

XXIX.  Eleusis,  Plato's  Academe,  etc 351 

XXX.  Through  the  Gulf  of  Cobinth 306 

INDEX  ....  375 


IN  THE  LEVANT. 


I. 

FEOM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM. 

SINCE  Jonah  made  his  short  and  ignominious  voyage  along 
the  SjTian  coast,  mariners  have  had  the  same  difficulty  in 
getting  ashore  that  the  sailors  experienced  who  attempted  to  land 
the  prophet ;  his  tedious  though  safe  method  of  disembarking  was 
not  followed  by  later  navigators,  and  the  landing  at  Jaifa  has  re- 
mained a  vexatious  and  half  the  time  an  impossible  achievement. 

The  town  lies  upon  the  open  sea  and  has  no  harbor.  It  is 
only  in  favorable  weather  that  vessels  can  anchor  within  a  mile 
or  so  from  shore,  and  the  Mediterranean  steamboats  often  pass 
the  port  without  being  able  to  land  either  freight  or  passengers. 
In  the  usual  condition  of  the  sea  the  big  fish  Avould  have  found 
it  difficidt  to  discharge.  Jonah  without  stranding  itself,  and  it 
seems  that  it  waited  three  days  for  the  favorable  moment.  The 
best  chance  for  landing  nowadays  is  in  the  early  morning,  in  that 
calm  period  when  the  winds  and  the  waves  alike  await  the  move- 
ments of  the  sun.  It  was  at  that  hour,  on  the  5th  of  April, 
1875,  that  we  anived  from  Port  Said  on  the  French  steamboat 
Erymanthe.  The  night  had  been  pleasant  and  the  sea  tolerably 
smooth,  but  not  to  the  apprehensions  of  some  of  the  passengers, 
who  always  declare  that  they  prefer,  now,  a  real  tempest  to  a 
deceitful  groundsweU.  On  a  recent  trip  a  party  had  been  pre- 
vented from  landing,  owing  to  the  deliberation  of  the  ladies  in 
making  their  toilet ;  by  the  time  they  had  attired  themselves  in 
a  proper  manner  to  appear  in  Southern  Palestine,  the  golden  hour 

1  A 


2  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

had  slipped  away,  and  they  were  able  only  to  look  upon  the  land 
which  their  beauty  and  clothes  would  have  adorned.  None  of 
us  were  caught  in  a  like  delinquency.  At  the  moment  the  anchor 
went  down  we  were  bargaining  with  a  ^dllain  to  take  us  ashore, 
a  bargain  in  which  the  yeasty  and  waxingly  uneasy  sea  gave  the 
boatman  all  the  advantage. 

Our  little  company  of  four  is  guided  by  the  philosopher  and 
dragoman  Mohammed  Abd-el-Atti,  of  Cairo,  who  has  served  us 
during  the  long  voyage  of  the  Nile.  He  is  assisted  in  his  task 
by  the  Abyssinian  boy  Ahman  Abdallah,  the  brightest  and  most 
faithful  of  servants.  In  making  his  first  appearance  in  the  Holy 
Land  he  has  donned  over  his  gay  Oriental  costume  a  blue  Frank 
coat,  and  set  his  fez  back  upon  his  head  at  an  angle  exceeding 
the  slope  of  his  forehead.  His  black  face  has  an  unusual  lustre, 
and  his  eyes  dance  with  more  than  their  ordinary  merriment  as 
he  points  excitedly  to  the  shore  and  cries,  "Yafa!  Mist'r  Dun- 
ham." 

The  information  is  addressed  to  Madame,  whom  Ahman,  ut- 
terly regardless  of  sex,  invariably  addresses  by  the  name  of  one 
of  our  travelling  companions  on  the  Nile. 

"Yes,  marm;  you  sec  him,  Y'afa,"  interposed  Abd-el-Atti, 
coming  forward  with  the  air  of  brushing  aside,  as  impertinent, 
the  geographical  information  of  his  subordinate ;  "  not  much,  I 
tink,  but  him  bery  old.     Let  us  to  go  ashore." 

Jaffa,  or  Yafa,  or  Joppa,  must  have  been  a  well-established 
city,  since  it  had  maritime  dealings  with  Tarshish,  in  that  remote 
period  in  which  the  quaint  story  of  Jonah  is  set,  —  a  piece  of 
Hebrew  literatui'e  that  bears  internal  evidence  of  great  antiquity 
in  its  extreme  naivete.  Although  the  Canaanites  did  not  come 
into  Palestine  till  about  2400  B.  c,  that  is  to  say,  about  the 
time  of  the  twelfth  dynasty  in  Egypt,  yet  there  is  a  reasonable 
tradition  that  Jaffa  existed  before  the  deluge.  For  ages  it  has 
been  the  chief  Mediterranean  port  of  great  Jerusalem.  Here 
Solomon  landed  his  Lebanon  timber  for  the  temple.  The  town 
swarmed  more  than  once  with  the  Eoman  legions  on  their  way 
to  crush  a  Jctvish  insurrection.  It  displayed  the  banner  of  the 
Saracen  host  a  few  years  after  the  Hegira.     And,  later,  when  the 


FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM.  3 

Crusaders  erected  the  standard  of  tlie  cross  on  its  walls,  it  was 
the  depot  of  supplies  which  Venice  and  Genoa  and  other  ricli 
cities  contributed  to  the  holy  war.  Great  kingdoms  and  con- 
querors have  possessed  it  in  turn,  and  for  thousands  of  years 
merchants  have  trusted  their  fortunes  to  its  perilous  roadstead. 
And  yet  no  one  has  ever  thought  it  worth  while  to  give  it  a 
harbor  by  the  construction  of  a  mole,  or  a  pier  like  that  at  Port 
Said.  I  should  say  that  the  first  requisite  in  the  industrial,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  moral,  regeneration  of  Palestine  is  a  harbor 
at  Jaffa. 

The  city  is  a  cluster  of  irregular,  flat-roofed  houses,  and  looks 
from  the  sea  like  a  brown  bowl  turned  bottom  up ;  the  roofs  are 
terraces  on  which  the  inhabitants  can  sleep  on  summer  nights, 
and  to  which  they  can  ascend,  out  of  the  narrow,  evil-smelling 
streets,  to  get  a  whiff  of  sweet  odor  from  the  orange  gardens 
which  surround  the  town.  The  ordinary  pictures  of  Jaffa  do  it 
ample  justice.  The  chief  feature  in  the  view  is  the  hundreds  of 
clumsy  feluccas  tossing  about  in  the  aggravating  waves,  diving 
endwise  and  dipping  sidewise,  guided  a  little  by  the  long  sweeps 
of  the  sailors,  but  apparently  the  sport  of  the  most  uncertain 
billows.  A  swarm  of  them,  four  or  five  deep,  surrounds  our 
vessel ;  they  are  rising  and  falling  in  the  most  sickly  motion, 
and  dashing  into  each  other  in  the  frantic  efforts  of  their  rowers 
to  get  near  the  gangway  ladder.  One  minute  the  boat  nearest 
the  stairs  rises  as  if  it  would  mount  into  the  ship,  and  the  next 
it  sinks  below  the  steps  into  a  frightful  gulf.  The  passengers 
watch  the  passing  opportunity  to  jump  on  board,  as  people  dive 
into  the  "  lift "  of  a  hotel.  Freight  is  discharged  into  lighters 
that  are  equally  frisky ;  and  it  is  taken  on  and  off  splashed  with 
salt  water  and  liable  to  a  thousand  accidents  in  the  violence  of 
the  transit. 

Before  the  town  stretches  a  line  of  rocks  worn  for  ages,  upon 
which  the  surf  is  breaking  and  sending  white  jets  into  the  air. 
It  is  through  a  narrow  opening  in  this  that  our  boat  is  borne  on 
the  back  of  a  great  wave,  and  we  come  into  a  strip  of  calmer 
water  and  approach  the  single  landing-stairs.  These  stairs  are 
not  so  convenient  as  those  of  the  vessel  we  have  just  left,  and 


4  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

two  persons  can  scarcely  pass  on  them.  But  this  is  the  only  sea 
entrance  to  Jaffa ;  if  the  Jews  attempt  to  return  and  enter  their 
ancient  kingdom  this  way,  it  will  take  them  a  long  time  to  get 
in.  A  sea-wall  fronts  the  town,  fortified  by  a  couple  of  rusty 
cannon  at  one  end,  and  the  passage  is  through  the  one  gate  at 
the  head  of  these  stairs. 

It  seems  forever  that  we  are  kept  waiting  at  the  foot  of  this 
shaky  stairway.  Two  opposing  currents  are  struggling  to  get  up 
and  down  it :  excited  travellers,  porters  with  trunks  and  knap- 
sacks, and  dragomans  who  appear  to  he  pushing  their  way 
through  simply  to  show  their  familiarity  with  the  country.  It 
is  a  dangerous  ascent  for  a  delicate  woman.  Somehow,  as  we 
wait  at  this  gate  where  so  many  men  of  note  have  Avaited,  and  look 
upon  this  sea-wall  upon  which  have  stood  so  many  of  the  mighty 
from  Solomon  to  Origen,  from  Tiglath-Pileser  to  Kichard  Coeur  de 
Lion,  the  historical  figure  which  most  pervades  Jaff"a  is  that  of 
the  whimsical  Jonah,  whose  connection  with  it  was  the  slightest. 
There  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  returned  here.  Josephus,  who 
takes  liberties  with  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  says  that  a  whale 
can-ied  the  fugitive  into  the  Eiixine  Sea,  and  there  discharged 
him  much  nearer  to  Nineveh  than  he  woidd  have  been  if  he  had 
kept  with  the  conveyance  in  which  he  first  took  passage  and 
/andcd  at  Tarsus.  Probably  no  one  in  Jaffa  noticed  the  little 
man  as  he  slipped  through  this  gate  and  took  ship,  and  yet  his 
simple  embarkation  from  the  town  has  given  it  more  notoriety 
than  any  other  event.  Thanks  to  an  enduring  piece  of  literature, 
the  unheroic  Jonah  and  his  whale  are  better  known  than  St. 
Jerome  and  his  lion ;  they  are  the  earliest  associates  and  Ori- 
ental acquaintances  of  aU  well-brought-up  children  in  Christen- 
dom. For  myself,  I  confess  that  the  strictness  of  many  a  New 
England  Sunday  has  been  relieved  by  the  perusal  of  his  unique 
adventure.  He  in  a  manner  anticipated  the  use  of  the  monitors 
and  other  cigar-shaped  submerged  sea-vessels. 

When  we  have  struggled  up  the  slippery  stairs  and  come 
through  the  gate,  we  wind  about  for  some  time  in  a  narrow 
passage  on  the  side  of  the  sea,  and  then  cross  through  the  city, 
stQl  on  foot.     It  is  a  rubbishy  place ;   the  streets  are  steep  and 


FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM.  5 

crooked ;  we  pass  through  archways,  we  ascend  steps,  we  make 
unexpecteci  turns ;  the  shops  are  a  little  like  bazaars,  but  rather 
Italian  than  Oriental ;  we  pass  a  pillared  mosque  and  a  Moslem 
fountain ;  we  come  upon  an  ancient  square,  in  the  centre  of 
which  is  a  round  fountain  with  pillars  and  a  canopy  of  stone,  and 
close  about  it  are  the  bazaars  of  merchants.  This  old  fountain 
is  profusely  sculptured  with  Arabic  inscriptions ;  the  stones  are 
worn  and  have  taken  the  rich  tint  of  age,  and  the  sunlight  blends 
it  into  harmony  with  the  gay  stuffs  of  the  shops  and  the  dark 
skins  of  the  idlers  on  the  pavement.  We  come  into  the  gTcat 
market  of  fruit  and  vegetables,  where  vast  heaps  of  oranges,  like 
apples  in  a  New  England  orchard,  line  the  way  and  fiU  the  atmos- 
phere with  a  golden  tinge. 

The  Jaffa  oranges  are  famous  in  the  Orient ;  they  grow  to  the 
size  of  ostrich  eggs,  they  have  a  skin  as  thick  as  the  hide  of  a 
rhinoceros,  and,  in  their  season,  the  pulp  is  sweet,  juicy,  and  ten- 
der. It  is  a  little  late  now,  and  we  open  one  golden  globe  after 
another  before  we  find  one  that  is  not  dry  and  tasteless  as  a  piece 
of  punk.     But  one  cannot  resist  buying  such  magnificent  fruit. 

Outside  the  walls,  through  broad  dusty  highways,  by  lanes  of 
cactus  hedges  and  in  sight  again  of  the  sea  breaking  on  a  rocky 
shore,  we  come  to  the  Hotel  of  the  Twelve  Tribes,  occupied  now 
principally  by  Cook's  tribes,  most  of  whom  appear  to  be  lost. 
In  the  adjacent  lot  are  pitched  the  tents  of  Syrian  travellers,  and 
one  of  Cook's  expeditions  is  in  aU  the  bustle  of  speedy  departure. 
The  bony,  nervous  Syrian  horses  are  assigned  by  lot  to  the  pil- 
gi-ims,  who  are  excellent  people  from  England  and  America,  and 
most  of  them  as  unaccustomed  to  the  back  of  a  horse  as  to  that 
of  an  ostrich.  It  is  touching  to  see  some  of  the  pilgrims  walk 
around  the  animals  which  have  fallen  to  them,  wondering  how 
they  are  to  get  on,  which  side  th^jjTare  to  mount,  and  how  they 
are  to  stay  on.  Some  have  already  mounted,  and  are  walking  the 
steeds  carefully  round  the  enclosure  or  timidly  essaying  a  trot. 
Nearly  every  one  concludes,  after  a  trial,  that  he  wovdd  like  to 
change,  —  something  not  quite  so  much  up  and  down,  you  know, 
an  easier  saddle,  a  horse  that  more  unites  gentleness  with  spirit. 
Some  of  the  dragomans  are  equipped  in  a  manner  to  impress 


6  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

travellers  with  the  perils  of  the  country.  One,  whom  I  remember 
on  the  Nile  as  a  mild  though  showy  person,  has  bloomed  here 
into  a  Bedawee  :  he  is  fierce  in  aspect,  an  arsenal  of  weapons,  and 
gallops  furiously  about  upon  a  horse  loaded  down  with  accoutre- 
ments.    This,  however,  is  only  the  beginning  of  our  real  danger. 

After  breakfast  we  sallied  out  to  sec  the  sights  :  besides  the 
house  of  Simon  the  tanner,  they  are  not  many.  The  house  of 
Simon  is,  as  it  was  in  the  time  of  St.  Peter,  by  the  seaside.  We 
went  upon  the  roof  (and  it  is  more  roof  than  anything  else)  where 
the  apostle  lay  down  to  sleep  and  saw  the  vision,  and  looked 
around  upon  the  other  roofs  and  upon  the  wide  sweep  of  the 
tumbling  sea.  In  the  court  is  a  well,  the  stone  curb  of  which  is 
deeply  worn  in  several  places  by  the  rope,  showing  long  use. 
The  water  is  brackish  ;  Simon  may  have  tanned  with  it.  The 
house  has  not  probably  been  destroyed  and  rebuilt  more  than 
four  or  five  times  since  St.  Peter  dwelt  here ;  the  Komans  once 
built  the  entire  city.  The  chief  room  is  now  a  mosque.  We 
inquired  for  the  house  of  Dorcas,  but  that  is  not  shown,  although 
I  understood  that  we  could  see  her  grave  outside  the  city.  It  is 
a  great  oversight  not  to  show  the  house  of  Dorcas,  and  one  that 
I  cannot  believe  wiU  long  annoy  pilgrims  in  these  days  of  multi- 
plied discoveries  of  sacred  sites. 

Whether  this  is  the  actual  spot  where  the  house  of  Simon 
stood,  I  do  not  know,  nor  does  it  much  matter.  Here,  or  here- 
abouts, the  apostle  saw  that  marvellous  vision  which  proclaimed 
to  a  weary  world  the  brotherliood  of  man.  From  this  spot  issued 
the  gospel  of  democracy  :  "  Of  a  truth,  I  perceive  that  God  is  no 
respecter  of  persons."  From  this  insignificant  dwelling  went 
forth  the  edict  that  broke  the  power  of  t\Tants,  and  loosed  the 
bonds  of  slaves,  and  ennobled  the  lot  of  woman,  and  enfranchised 
the  human  mind.  Of  all  places  on  earth  I  think  there  is  only 
one  more  worthy  of  pilgrimage  by  all  devout  and  liberty-loving 
souls. 

We  were  greatly  interested,  also,  in  a  visit  to  the  weU-kuown 
school  of  Miss  Aniot,  a  mission  school  for  girls  in  the  upper 
chambers  of  a  house  in  the  most  crowded  part  of  Jaffa.  With 
modest  courage  and  tact  and  self-devotion  this  lady  has  sustained 


FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM.  7 

it  here  for  twelve  years,  and  the  fruits  of  it  already  begin  to  ap- 
pear. We  found  twenty  or  thirty  pupils,  nearly  all  quite  young, 
and  most  of  them  daughters  of  Christians ;  they  are  taught  in 
Arabic  the  common  branches,  and  some  English,  and  they  learn 
to  sing.  They  sang  for  us  English  tunes  like  any  Sunday  school ; 
a  strange  sound  in  a  Moslem  to^\ai.  There  are  one  or  two  other 
schools  of  a  similar  character  in  the  Orient,  conducted  as  private 
enterprises  by  ladies  of  culture ;  and  I  think  there  is  no  work 
nobler,  and  none  more  worthy  of  liberal  support  or  more  likely  to 
result  in  giving  women  a  decent  position  in  Eastern  society. 

On  a  little  elevation  a  half-mde  outside  the  walls  is  a  cluster 
of  wooden  houses,  which  were  manufactured  in  America.  There 
we  found  the  remnants  of  the  Adams  colony,  only  half  a  dozen 
families  out  of  the  original  two  hundred  and  fifty  persons ;  two 
or  three  men  and  some  widows  and  children.  The  colony  built 
in  the  centre  of  their  settlement  an  ugly  little  chixrch  out  of 
Maine  timber;  it  now  stands  empty  and  staring,  with  broken 
windows.  It  is  not  difficult  to  make  this  adventure  appear  ro- 
mantic. Those  who  engaged  in  it  were  plain  New  England  peo- 
ple, many  of  them  ignorant,  but  devout  to  fanaticism.  They  had 
heard  the  prophets  expounded,  and  the  prophecies  of  the  latter 
days  unravelled,  until  they  came  to  believe  that  the  day  of  the 
Lord  was  nigh,  and  that  they  had  laid  upon  them  a  mission  in 
the  fulfilment  of  the  divine  purposes.  Most  of  them  were  from 
Maine  and  New  Hampshire,  accustomed  to  bitter  winters  and  to 
■wring  their  living  from  a  niggardly  soil.  I  do  not  wonder  that 
they  were  fascinated  by  the  pictures  of  a  fair  land  of  blue  skies, 
a  land  of  vines  and  olives  and  palms,  where  they  were  un- 
doubtedly called  by  the  Spirit  to  a  life  of  greater  sanctity  and 
considerable  ease  and  abundance.  I  think  I  see  their  dismay 
when  they  first  pitched  their  tents  amid  this  Moslem  squalor,  and 
attempted  to  "  squat,"  Western  fashion,  upon  the  skirts  of  the 
Plain  of  Sharon,  which  has  been  for  some  ages  pre-empted.  They 
erected  houses,  however,  and  joined  the  other  inhabitants  of  the 
region  in  a  struggle  for  existence.  But  Adams,  the  preacher  and 
president,  had  not  faith  enough  to  Avait  for  the  unfolding  of 
prophecy ;   he  took  to  strong  drink,  and  Avith  general  bad  man- 


8  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

agement  the  whole  enterprise  came  to  grief,  and  the  deluded  peo- 
ple were  rescued  from  starvation  only  by  the  liberality  of  our 
government. 

There  was  the  germ  of  a  good  idea  in  the  rash  undertaking. 
If  Palestine  is  ever  to  be  repeopled,  its  coming  inhabitants  must 
have  the  means  of  subsistence ;  and  if  those  now  here  are  to  be 
redeemed  to  a  better  life,  they  must  learn  to  work ;  before  aU  else 
there  must  come  a  revival  of  industry  and  a  development  of  the 
resources  of  the  country.  To  send  here  Jews  or  Gentiles,  and  to 
support  them  by  charity,  only  adds  to  the  existing  misery. 

It  Avas  eight  years  ago  that  the  Adams  community  exploded. 
Its  heirs  and  successors  are  Germans,  a  colony  from  Wiirtemberg, 
an  Advent  sect  akin  to  the  American,  but  more  single-minded 
and  devout.  They  own  the  ground  upon  which  they  have  set- 
tled, having  acquired  a  title  from  the  Turkish  government ;  they 
have  erected  substantial  houses  of  stone  and  a  large  hotel,  The 
Jerusalem,  and  give  many  evidences  of  shrewdness  and  thrift  as 
well  as  piety.  They  have  established  a  good  school,  in  which, 
with  German  thoroughness,  Latin,  English,  and  the  higher 
mathematics  are  taught,  and  an  excellent  education  may  be  ob- 
tained. More  land  the  colony  is  not  permitted  to  own  ;  but  they 
hire  ground  outside  the  walls  which  they  farm  to  advantage. 

I  talked  with  one  of  the  teachers,  a  thin  young  ascetic  in  spec- 
tacles, whose  severity  of  countenance  and  demeanor  was  sufficient 
to  rebuke  all  the  Oriental  levity  I  had  encountered  during  the 
winter.  There  was  in  him  and  in  the  other  leaders  an  air  of  sin- 
cere fanaticism,  and  a  sobriety  and  integrity  in  the  common  labor- 
ers, which  are  the  best  omens  for  the  success  of  the  colony.  The 
leaders  told  us  that  they  thought  the  Americans  came  here  with 
the  expectation  of  making  money  uppermost  in  mind,  and  hardly 
in  the  right  spirit.  As  to  themselves,  they  do  not  expect  to 
make  money  ;  they  repelled  the  insinuation  with  some  warmth  ; 
they  have  had,  in  fact,  a  very  hard  struggle,  and  are  thankful  for 
a  fair  measure  of  success.  Their  sole  present  purpose  is  evi- 
dently to  redeem  and  reclaim  the  land,  and  make  it  fit  for  the 
expected  day  of  jubilee.  The  Jews  from  all  parts  of  the  world, 
they  say,  are  to  return  to  Palestine,  and  there  is  to  issue  out  of 


FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM,  9 

the  Holy  Land  a  new  divine  impulse  which  is  to  be  the  regenera- 
tion and  salvation  of  the  world.  I  do  not  know  that  anybody 
but  the  Jews  themselves  would  oppose  their  migration  to  Pales- 
tine, though  their  withdrawal  from  the  business  of  the  world 
suddenly  would  create  wide  disaster.  With  these  doubts,  how- 
ever,  we  did  not  trouble  the  youthfid  knight  of  severity.  We 
only  asked  him  upon  what  the  community  founded  its  creed  and 
its  mission.  Largely,  he  replied,  upon  the  prophets,  and  espe- 
cially upon  Isaiah ;  and  he  referred  us  to  Isaiah  xxxii.  1 ;  xlix. 
12  et  seq.  ;  and  lii.  1.  It  is  not  every  industrial  community 
that  would  flourish  on  a  charter  so  vague  as  this. 

A  lad  of  twelve  or  fourteen  was  our  guide  to  the  Advent  set- 
tlement; he  was  an  early  polyglot,  speaking,  besides  English, 
French,  and  German,  Arabic,  and,  I  think,  a  little  Greek ;  a  boy 
of  uncommon  gravity  of  deportment  and  of  precocious  shrewd- 
ness. He  is  destined  to  be  a  guide  and  dragoman.  I  could  see 
that  the  whole  Biblical  history  was  a  little  fade  to  him,  but  he 
does  not  lose  sight  of  the  profit  of  a  knowledge  of  it.  I  could 
not  but  contrast  him  with  a  Sunday-school  scholar  of  his  own  age 
in  America,  whose  imagination  kindles  at  the  Old  Testament  sto- 
ries, and  whose  enthusiasm  for  the  Holy  Land  is  awakened  by 
the  wall  maps  and  the  pictures  of  Solomon's  temple.  Actual 
,  contact  has  destroyed  the  imagination  of  this  boy ;  Jerusalem  is 
not  so  much  a  wonder  to  him  as  Boston ;  Samson  lived  just  over 
there  beyond  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  and  is  not  so  much  a  hero  as 
Old  Put. 

The  boy's  mother  was  a  good  New  Hampshire  woman,  whose 
downi'ight  Yankeeism  of  thought  and  speech  was  in  odd  contrast 
to  her  Oriental  surroundings.  I  sat  in  a  rocking-chair  in  the 
sitting-room  of  her  little  wood  cottage,  and  could  scarcely  con- 
vince myself  that  I  was  not  in  a  prim  New  Hampshire  parlor. 
To  her  mind  there  were  no  more  Oriental  illusions,  and  perhaps 
she  had  never  indulged  any  ;  certainly,  in  her  presence  Palestine 
seemed  to  me  as  commonplace  as  New  England. 

"  I  s'pose  you  've  seen  the  meetin'  house  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Wal'  it 's  goin'  to  rack  and  ruiu  like  everything  else  here. 
\* 


10  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

There  is  n't  enough  here  to  have  any  service  now.  Sometimes  I 
go  to  the  German ;  I  try  to  keep  up  a  little  feeling." 

I  have  no  doubt  it  is  more  difficult  to  keep  up  a  religious  feel- 
ing in  the  Holy  Land  than  it  is  in  New  Hampshire,  but  we  did 
not  discuss  that  point.     I  asked,  "  Do  you  have  any  society  ?  " 

"  Precious  little.  The  Germans  are  dreffle  unsocial.  The  na- 
tives are  all  a  low  set.  The  Arabs  wiU  all  lie ;  I  don't  think 
much  of  any  of  'em.  The  Mohammedans  are  all  shiftless ;  you 
can't  trust  any  of  'em." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  home  ?  " 

"  Wal,  sometimes  I  think  I  'd  like  to  see  the  old  place,  but  I 
reckon  I  could  n't  stand  the  winters.  This  is  a  nice  climate, 
that 's  all  there  is  here ;  and  we  have  grapes  and  oranges,  and 
loads  of  flowers,  —  you  see  my  garden  there ;  I  set  great  store  by 
that,  and  me  and  my  daughter  take  solid  comfort  in  it,  especially 
when  Ite  is  away,  and  he  has  to  be  oif  most  of  the  time  with 
parties,  guidin'  'em.  No,  I  guess  I  sha'n't  ever  cross  the  ocean 
again." 

It  appeared  that  the  good  woman  had  consoled  herself  with  a 
second  husband,  who  bears  a  Jewish  name ;  so  that  the  original 
object  of  her  mission,  to  gather  in  the  chosen  people,  is  not  alto- 
gether lost  sight  of. 

There  is  a  cui-ious  interest  in  these  New  England  transplanta- 
tions. Climate  is  a  great  transformer.  The  habits  and  customs 
of  thousands  of  years  will  insensibly  conquer  the  most  stubborn 
prejudices.  I  wonder  how  long  it  will  require  to  blend  these 
scions  of  our  vigorous  civilization  with  the  motley  growth  that 
makes  up  the  present  Syriac  population,  —  people  whose  blood  is 
streaked  with  a  dozen  different  strains,  Egyptian,  Ethiopian,  Ara- 
bian, Assyrian,  Phoenician,  Greek,  Eoman,  Canaanite,  Jewish,  Per- 
sian, Turkish,  with  all  the  races  that  have  in  turn  ravaged  or  occu- 
pied the  land.  I  do  not,  indeed,  presume  to  say  what  the  Syrians 
are  who  have  occupied  Palestine  for  so  many  hundreds  of  years, 
but  I  cannot  see  how  it  can  be  otherwise  than  that  their  blood  is 
as  mixed  as  that  of  the  modern  Egyptians.  Perhaps  these  New 
England  offshoots  will  maintain  their  distinction  of  race  for  a 
long  time,  but  I  should  be  still  more  interested  to  know  how 


FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM.  11 

long  tte  New  England  mind  will  keep  its  integrity  in  these  sur- 
roundings, and  whether  those  ruggednesses  of  virtue  and  those 
homely  simplicities  of  character  which  we  recognize  as  belonging 
to  the  hilly  portions  of  New  England  will  insensibly  melt  away 
in  this  relaxing  air  that  so  much  wants  moral  tone.  These  Ori- 
ental countries  have  been  conquered  many  times,  but  they  have 
always  conquered  their  conquerors.  I  am  told  that  even  our 
American  consuls  are  not  always  more  successful  in  resisting  the 
undermining  seductions  of  the  East  than  were  the  Roman  pro- 
consids. 

These  reflections,  however,  let  it  be  confessed,  did  not  come  to 
me  as  I  sat  in  the  rocking-chair  of  my  countrywoman.  I  was 
rather  thinking  how  completely  her  presence  and  accent  dispelled 
all  mv  Oriental  allusions  and  cheapened  the  associations  of  Jaffa. 
There  is  I  know  not  what  in  a  real  living  Yankee  that  puts  aR 
appearances  to  the  test  and  dissipates  the  colors  of  romance. 
It  was  not  until  I  came  again  into  the  highway  and  found  in 
front  of  The  Jerusalem  hotel  a  company  of  Arab  acrobats  and 
pyramid-builders,  their  swarthy  bodies  shining  in  the  white  sun- 
light, and  a  lot  of  idlers  squatting  about  in  enjoyment  of  the 
exertions  of  others,  that  I  recovered  in  any  degree  my  delusions. 

With  the  return  of  these,  it  seemed  not  so  impossible  to  be- 
lieve even  in  the  return  of  the  Jews ;  especially  when  we  learned 
that  preparations  for  them  multiply.  A  second  German  colony 
has  been  established  outside  of  the  city.  There  is  another  at 
Haifa ;  on  the  Jerusalem  road  the  beginning  of  one  has  been 
made  by  the  Jews  themselves.  It  amounts  to  something  like  a 
"  movement." 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  set  out  for  Ramleh,  igno- 
miniously,  in  a  wagon.  There  is  a  carriage-road  from  Jaffa  to 
Jerusalem,  and  our  dragoman  had  promised  us  a  "  private  car- 
riage." We  decided  to  take  it,  thinking  it  would  be  more  com- 
fortable than  horseback  for  some  of  our  party.  We  made  a 
mistake  which  we  have  never  ceased  to  regret.  The  road  I  can 
confidently  commend  as  the  worst  in  the  world.  The  carriage 
into  which  we  climbed  belonged  to  the  German  colony,  and  was 
a  compromise  between  the  ancient  ark,  a  modem  dray,  and  a 


12  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

threshing-macliine.  It  was  one  of  those  contrivances  that  a  Ger- 
man would  evolve  out  of  his  inner  consciousness,  aiid  its  appear- 
ance here  gave  me  grave  doubts  as  to  the  adaptability  of  these 
honest  Germans  to  the  Orient.  It  was,  however,  a  great  deal 
woi-se  than  it  looked.  If  it  were  driven  over  smooth  ground  it 
would  soon  loosen  all  the  teeth  of  the  passengers,  and  shatter 
their  spinal  columns.  But  over  the  Jerusalem  road  the  effect 
was  indescribable.  The  noise  of  it  was  intolerable,  the  jolting 
incredible.  The  little  solid  Dutchman,  who  sat  in  front  and 
drove,  shook  like  the  charioteer  of  an  artillery  wagon ;  but  I 
suppose  he  had  no  feeling.  We  pounded  along  over  the  roughest 
stone  pavement,  Avith  the  sensation  of  victims  drawn  to  execution 
in  a  cart,  until  we  emerged  into  the  open  country ;  but  there 
we  found  no  improvement  in  the  road. 

Jaffa  is  surrounded  by  immense  orange  groves,  which  are  pro- 
tected along  the  highways  by  hedges  of  prickly-pear.  We  came 
out  from  a  lane  of  these  upon  the  level  and  blooming  Plain  of 
Sharon,  and  saw  before  us,  on  the  left,  the  blue  hills  of  Judaea. 
It  makes  little  difference  what  kind  of  conveyance  one  has,  it  is 
impossible  for  him  to  advance  upon  this  historic,  if  not  sacred  plain, 
and  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  those  pale  hiUs  which  stood  to  him 
for  a  celestial  vision  in  his  childhood,  without  a  great  quickening 
of  the  pulse ;  and  it  is  a  most  lovely  view  after  Egypt,  or  after 
anything.  The  elements  of  it  are  simple  enough,  —  merely  a 
wide  sweep  of  prairie  and  a  line  of  graceful  mountains ;  but  the 
forms  are  pleasing,  and  the  color  is  incomparable.  The  soil  is 
warm  and  red,  the  fields  are  a  mass  of  wild-flowers  of  the  most 
brilliant  and  variegated  hues,  and,  alternately  swept  by  the  shad- 
ows of  clouds  and  bathed  in  the  sun,  the  scene  takes  on  the  ani- 
mation of  incessant  change. 

It  was  somewhere  here,  outside  the  walls,  I  do  not  know  the 
spot,  that  the  massacre  of  Jaffa  occurred.  I  purposely  go  out  of 
my  way  to  repeat  the  well-known  story  of  it,  and  I  trast  that  it 
wiU  always  be  recalled  whenever  any  mention  is  made  of  the  cruel 
little  Corsican  who  so  long  imposed  the  vulgarity  and  savageness 
of  his  selfish  nature  upon  Europe.  It  was  in  March,  1799,  that 
Napoleon,  toward  the  close  of  his  humiliating  and  disastrous 


FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM.  13 

campaign  in  Egypt,  carried  Jaffa  by  storm.  The  town  was  given 
over  to  pillage.  During  its  progress  four  thousand  Albanians  of 
the  garrison,  taking  refuge  in  some  old  khans,  offered  to  surren- 
der on  condition  that  their  lives  shoidd  be  spared ;  otherwise 
they  would  fight  to  the  bitter  end.  Their  terms  were  accepted, 
and  two  of  Napoleon's  aids-de-camp  pledged  their  honor  for 
their  safety.  They  were  marched  out  to  the  general's  headquar- 
ters and  seated  in  front  of  the  tents  with  their  arms  bound  be- 
hind them.  The  displeased  commander  called  a  council  of  war 
and  deliberated  two  days  upon  their  fate,  and  then  signed  the 
order  for  the  massacre  of  the  entire  body.  The  excuse  was  that 
the  general  could  not  be  burdened  with  so  many  prisoners.  Thus 
in  one  day  were  murdered  in  cold  blood  about  as  many  people  as 
Jaffa  at  present  contains.  Its  inhabitants  may  be  said  to  have 
been  accustomed  to  being  massacred ;  eight  thousand  of  them 
were  butchered  in  one  Eoman  assault ;  but  I  suppose  all  antiquity 
may  be  searched  in  vain  for  an  act  of  perfidy  and  cruelty  com- 
bined equal  to  that  of  the  Grand  Emperor. 

The  road  over  which  we  rattle  is  a  causeway  of  loose  stones  ; 
the  country  is  a  plain  of  sand,  but  clothed  with  a  luxuriant  vege- 
tation. In  the  fields  the  brown  husbandmen  are  plowing,  turn- 
ing up  the  soft  red  earth  with  a  rude  plough  drawn  by  cattle 
yoked  wide  apart.  Ked-legged  storks,  on  their  way,  I  suppose, 
from  Egypt  to  their  summer  residence  further  north,  dot  the 
meadows,  and  are  too  busy  picking  up  worms  to  notice  our  hal- 
loo. Abd-el-Atti,  who  has  a  passion  for  shooting,  begs  per- 
mission to  "  go  for  "  these  household  birds  with  the  gun  ;  but 
we  explain  to  him  that  we  would  no  more  shoot  a  stork  than  one 
of  the  green  birds  of  Paradise.  Quails  are  scudding  about  in 
the  newly  turned  furrows,  and  song  birds  salute  us  from  the  tops 
of  swinging  cypresses.  The  Holy  Land  is  rejoicing  in  its  one 
season  of  beauty,  its  spring-time. 

~^rees  are  not  wanting  to  the  verdant  meadows.  We  still 
encounter  an  occasional  grove  of  oranges  ;  olives  also  appear,  and 
acacias,  sycamores,  cypresses,  and  tamarisks.  The  pods  of  the 
carob-tree  are,  I  believe,  the  husks  upon  which  the  prodigal  son 
did  not  thrive.     Large  patches  of  barley  are  passed.     But  the 


14  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

fields  not  occupied  with  grain  are  literally  carpeted  with  wild- 
flowers  of  the  most  brilliant  hues,  such  a  display  as  I  never  saw 
elsewhere  :  scarlet  and  dark  flaming  poppies,  the  scarlet  anemone, 
marigolds,  white  daisies,  the  lobelia,  the  lupin,  the  vetch,  the 
gorse  with  its  delicate  yellow  blossom,  the  pea,  something  that 
we  agreed  to  call  the  white  rose  of  Sharon,  the  mallow,  the  aspho- 
del ;  the  leaves  of  a  lily  not  yet  in  bloom.  About  the  rose  of 
Sharon  w^e  no  doubt  were  mistaken.  There  is  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose it  was  white ;  but  we  have  somehoAV  associated  the  purity  of 
that  color  with  the  song  beginning,  "  I  am  the  rose  of  Sharon 
and  the  lily  of  the  valleys."  It  was  probably  not  even  a  rose. 
We  finally  decided  to  cherish  the  red  mallow  as  the  rose  of 
Sharon ;  it  is  very  abundant,  and  the  botanist  of  our  company 
seemed  satisfied  to  accept  it.  For  myself,  the  rose  by  the  name 
of  mallow  does  not  smell  sweet. 

We  come  in  sight  of  Eamleh,  which  lies  on  the  swelling  mounds 
of  the  green  plain,  encompassed  by  emerald  meadows  and  by 
groves  of  orange  and  olive,  and  conspicuous  from  a  great  distance 
by  its  elegant  square  tower,  the  most  beautiful  in  form  that  we 
have  seen  in  the  East.  As  the  sun  is  sinking,  we  defer  our  visit 
to  it  and  drive  to  the  Latin  convent,  where  we  are  to  lodge,  per- 
mission to  that  eff'ect  having  been  obtained  from  the  sister  con- 
vent at  Jaff'a ;  a  mere  form,  since  a  part  of  the  convent  was  built 
expressly  for  the  entertainment  of  travellers,  and  the  few  monks 
who  occupy  it  find  keeping  a  hotel  a  very  profitable  kind  of  hos- 
pitality. The  stranger  is  the  guest  of  the  superior,  no  charge  is 
made,  and  the  little  fiction  of  gratuitous  hospitality  so  pleases  the 
pilgrim  that  he  will  not  at  his  departure  be  outdone  in  liberality. 
It  would  be  much  more  agreeable  if  all  our  hotels  were  upon  this 
system. 

While  the  dragoman  is  unpacking  the  luggage  in  the  court -yard 
and  bustling  about  in  a  manner  to  impress  the  establishment  with 
the  importance  of  its  accession,  I  climb  up  to  the  roofs  to  get  the 
sunset.  The  house  it  all  roofs,  it  would  seem,  at  different  levels. 
Steps  lead  here  and  there,  and  one  can  wander  about  at  will ;  you 
could  not  desire  a  pleasanter  lounging-place  in  a  summer  evening. 
The  protecting  walls,  which  are  breast-high,  are  built  in  with  cyl- 


FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM.  15 

inders  of  tile,  like  the  mud  houses  in  Egypt ;  the  tiles  make  the 
walls  lighter,  and  furnish  at  tlie  same  time  peep-holes  through 
which  the  monks  can  spy  the  world,  themselves  unseen.  I  noticed 
that  the  tilei  about  the  entrance  court  w6re  inclined  downwards, 
so  that  a  curious  person  could  study  any  new  arrival  at  the  con- 
vent without  being  himself  observed.  The  sun  went  down  behind 
the  square  tower  which  is  called  Saracenic  and  is  entirely  Gothic 
in  spirit,  and  the  light  lay  soft  and  rosy  on  the  wide  compass  of 
green  vegetation ;  I  heard  on  the  distant  fields  the  bells  of  mules 
returning  to  the  gates,  and  the  sound  substituted  Italy  in  ray 
mind  for  Palestine. 

From  this  prospect  I  was  summoned  in  haste ;  the  superior  of 
the  convent  was  waiting  to  receive  me,  and  I  had  been  sought  in 
all  directions.  I  had  no  idea  why  I  should  be  received,  but  I 
soon  found  that  the  occasion  was  not  a  trivial  one.  In  the  recep- 
tion-room were  seated  in  some  state  the  superior,  attended  by  two 
or  three  brothers,  and  the  remainder  of  my  suite  already  assem- 
bled. The  abbot,  if  he  is  an  abbot,  arose  and  cordially  welcomed 
"  the  general "  to  his  humble  establishment,  hoped  that  he  was 
not  fatigued  by  the  journey  from  Jaffa,  and  gave  him  a  seat  be- 
side himself.  The  remainder  of  the  party  were  ranged  according 
to  their  rank.  I  replied  that  the  journey  was  on  the  contrary 
delightful,  and  that  any  journey  could  be  considered  fortunate 
which  had  the  hospitable  convent  of  Ramleh  as  its  end.  The 
courteous  monk  renewed  his  solicitous  inquiries,  and  my  aston- 
ishment was  increased  by  the  botanist,  who  gravely  assured  the 
worthy  father  that  "  the  general  "  was  accustomed  to  fatigue,  and 
that  such  a  journey  as  this  was  a  recreation  to  him. 

"  What  in  the  mischief  is  all  this  about  ?  "  I  seized  a  moment 
to  whisper  to  the  person  next  me. 

"  You  are  a  distinguished  American  general,  travelling  with  his 
lady  in  pursuit  of  Heaven  knows  what,  and  accompanied  by  his 
suite ;  don't  make  a  mess  of  it." 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  if  I  am  a  distinguished  American  general, 
travelling  with  my  lady  in  pursuit  of  Heaven  knows  what,  I  am 
glad  to  know  it." 

Fortunately  the  peaceful  father  did  not  know  anvthing  more  of 


16  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

war  than  I  did,  and  I  suppose  my  hastily  assumed  modesty  of 
the  soldier  seemed  to  him  the  real  thing.  It  was  my  first  experi- 
ence of  anything  like  real  war,  the  first  time  I  had  ever  occupied 
any  military  position,  and  it  did  not  seem  to  he  so  arduous  as  has 
been  represented. 

Great  regret  was  expressed  by  the  superior  that  they  had  not 
anticipated  my  arrival,  in  order  to  have  entertained  me  in  a  more 
worthy  manner ;  the  convent  was  luicommonly  full  of  pilgrims, 
and  it  would  be  difficult  to  lodge  my  suite  as  it  deserved.  Then 
there  followed  a  long  discussion  between  the  father  and  one  of  the 
monks  upon  om*  disposition  for  the  night. 

"  If  we  give  the  general  and  his  lady  the  south  room  in  the 
court,  then  the  doctor  "  —  etc.,  etc. 

"  Or,"  urged  the  monk,  "  suppose  the  general  and  his  lady 
occupy  the  cell  number  four,  then  mademoiselle  can  take "  — 
etc.,  etc. 

The  military  commander  and  his  lady  were  at  last  shown  into 
a  cell  opening  out  of  the  court,  a  lofty  but  naiTow  vaulted  room, 
with  brick  floor  and  thick  walls,  and  one  small  window  near  the 
ceiling.  Instead  of  candles  we  had  antique  Roman  lamps,  which 
made  a  feeble  glimmer  in  the  cavern ;  the  oddest  water-jugs  served 
for  pitchers.  It  may  not  have  been  damp,  but  it  felt  as  if  no  sun 
had  ever  penetrated  the  chill  interior. 

"  What  is  all  this  nonsense  of  the  general  ?  "  I  asked  Abd-el- 
Atti,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  hold  of  that  managing  factotum. 

"  Dunno,  be  sure ;  these  monk  always  pay  more  attention  to 
'stinguish  people." 

"  But  what  did  you  say  at  the  convent  in  Jaffa  when  you  ap- 
plied for  a  permit  to  lodge  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  tell  him  my  gentleman  general  American,  but  'stinguish; 
mebbe  he  done  gone  wi'ote  'em  that  you  'stinguish  American  gen- 
eral. Very  nice  man,  the  superior,  speak  Italian  beautiful ;  when 
I  give  him  the  letter,  he  say  he  do  all  he  can  for  the  general  and 
his  suite;  he  sorry  I  not  let  him  know  'forehand." 

The  dinner  was  served  in  the  long  refectory,  and  there  were 
some  twenty-five  persons  at  table,  mostly  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem, 
and  most  of  them  of  the  poorer  class.     One  bright  Italian  had 


FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM.  17 

travelled  alone  with  her  little  boy  all  the  way  from  Verona,  only 
to  see  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  The  monks  waited  at  table  and  served 
a  very  good  dinner.  Ti'avellers  are  not  permitted  to  enter  the 
portion  of  the  large  convent  which  contains  the  cells  of  the  monks, 
nor  to  visit  any  part  of  the  old  building  except  the  chapel.  I 
fancied  that  the  jolly  brothers  who  waited  at  table  were  rather 
glad  to  come  into  contact  mth  the  world,  even  in  this  capacity. 

In  the  dining-room  hangs  a  notable  picture.  It  is  the  Virgin 
enthroned,  with  a  crown  and  aureole,  holding  the  holy  child,  who 
is  also  crowned ;  in  the  foreground  is  a  choir  of  white  boys  or 
angels.  The  Virgin  and  child  are  both  black ;  it  is  the  Vii-gin  of 
Ethiopia.  I  could  not  learn  the  origin  of  this  picture ;  it  was 
rude  enough  in  execution  to  be  the  work  of  a  Greek  artist  of  the 
present  day ;  but  it  was  said  to  come  from  Ethiopia,  where  it  is 
necessary  to  a  proper  respect  for  the  Virgin  that  she  should  be 
represented  black.  She  seems  to  bear  something  the  relation  to 
the  Virgin  of  Judaea  that  Astarte  did  to  the  Grecian  Venus.  And 
we  are  again  reminded  that  the  East  has  no  prejudice  of  color : 
"  I  am  black  but  comely,  0  ye  daughters  of  Jerusalem  ";  "Look 
not  upon  me  because  I  am  black,  because  the  sun  hath  looked 
upon  me." 

The  convent  bells  are  ringing  at  early  dawn,  and  though  we 
are  up  at  half  past  five,  nearly  all  the  pilgrims  have  hastily  de- 
parted for  Jerusalem.  Upon  the  roof  I  find  the  morning  fair. 
There  are  more  minarets  than  spires  in  sight,  but  they  stand  to- 
gether in  this  pretty  little  town  ■\\ithout  discord.  The  beUs  are 
ringing  in  melodious  persuasion,  but  at  the  same  time,  in  voices 
as  musical,  the  muezzins  are  calling  from  their  galleries ;  each 
summoning  men  to  prayer  in  its  own  way.  From  these  walls 
spectators  once  looked  down  upon  the  battles  of  cross  and  cres- 
cent raging  in  the  lovely  meadows,  —  battles  of  quite  as  much 
pride  as  piety.  A  common  interest  always  softens  animosity,  and 
I  fancy  that  monks  and  Moslems  will  not  again  resort  to  the  fool- 
ish practice  of  breaking  each  other's  heads  so  long  as  they  enjoy 
the  profitable  stream  of  pilgrims  to  the  Holy  Land. 

After  breakfast  and  a  gift  to  the  treasury  of  the  convent  accord- 
ing to  our  rank  —  I  think  if  I  were  to  stay  there  again  it  woidd 

B 


18  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

be  in  the  character  of  a  common  soldier  —  we  embarked  again  in 
the  ark,  and  jolted  along  behind  the  square-shouldered  driver, 
■who  seemed  to  enjoy  the  rattling  and  rumbling  of  his  clumsy 
vehicle.  But  no  minor  infelicity  could  destroy  for  us  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  morning  or  the  enjoyment  of  the  lovely  country.  Al- 
though, in  the  jolting,  one  could  not  utter  a  remark  about  the 
beauty  of  the  way  without  danger  of  biting  his  tongue  in  two, 
we  feasted  our  eyes  and  let  our  imaginations  loose  over  the  vast 
ranges  of  the  Old  Testament  story. 

After  passing  through  the  fertile  meadows  of  Eamleh,  we  came 
into  a  more  rolling  country,  destitute  of  houses,  but  clothed  on 
with  a  most  brilliant  bloom  of  wild-flowers,  among  which  the 
papilionaceous  flowers  were  conspicuous  for  color  aud  delicacy. 
I  found  by  the  roadside  a  black  calla  (which  I  should  no  more 
have  believed  in  than  in  the  black  Virgin,  if  I  had  not  seen  it). 
Its  leaf  is  exactly  that  of  our  calla-lily ;  its  flower  is  similar  to, 
but  not  so  open  and  flaring,  as  the  white  calla,  and  the  pistil  is 
large  and  very  long,  and  of  the  color  of  the  interior  of  the  flower. 
The  corolla  is  green  on  the  outside,  but  the  inside  is  incomparably 
rich,  like  velvet,  black  in  some  lights  and  dark  maroon  in  others. 
Nothing  could  be  finer  in  color  and  texture  than  this  superb 
flower.  Besides  the  blooms  of  yesterday  we  noticed  buttercups, 
vj^nous  sorts  of  the  ranunculus,  among  them  the  scarlet  and  the 

ooting-star,  a  light  purple  flower  with  a  dark  purple  centre, 
%Q  Star  of  Bethlehem,  and  the  purple  wind-flower.  Scarlet  pop- 
pies and  the  still  more  brilliant  scarlet  anemones,  dandelions, 
marguerites,  filled  all  the  fields  with  masses  of  color. 

Shortly  we  come  into  the  hills,  through  wiiich  the  road  winds 
upward,  and  the  scenery  is  very  much  like  that  of  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  or  would  be  if  the  rocky  hills  of  the  latter  were  denuded 
of  trees.  The  way  begins  to  be  lively  with  passengers,  anil  it 
becomes  us  to  be  circumspect,  for  almost  every  foot  of  ground 
has  been  consecrated  or  desecrated,  or  in  some  manner  made  mem- 
orable. This  heap  of  rubbish  is  the  remains  of  a  fortress  which 
the  Saracens  captiu-ed,  built  by  the  Crusaders  to  guard  the  entrance 
of  the  pass,  upon  the  site  of  an  older  fortification  by  the  Macca- 
bees, or  founded  upon  Roman  substructions,  and  mentioned  in 


FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM.  19 

Judges  as  the  spot  wliere  some  very  ancient  Jew  stayed  overnight. 
It  is  also,  no  doubt,  one  of  the  stations  that  help  us  to  determine 
with  the  accuracy  of  a  surveyor  the  boundary  between  the  terri- 
tory of  Benjamin  and  Judah.  I  try  to  ascertain  all  these  locali- 
ties and  to  remember  them  all,  but  I  sometimes  get  Richard 
Cceur  de  Lion  mixed  with  Jonathan  MaccabiEus,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  I  mistook  "  Job's  convent  "  for  the  Castellum  boni  Latroiiis, 
a  place  we  were  specially  desirous  to  see  as  the  birthplace  of  the 
"  penitent  thief."  But  whatever  we  confounded,  we  are  certain 
of  one  thing :  we  looked  over  into  the  Valley  of  Ajalon.  It  was 
over  this  valley  that  Joshua  commanded  the  moon  to  tany  while 
he  smote  the  fugitive  Amorites  on  the  heights  of  Gibeon,  there 
to  the  east. 

The  road  is  thronged  with  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem,  and  with 
travellers  and  their  attendants,  —  gay  cavalcades  scattered  all 
along  the  winding  way  over  the  rolling  plain,  as  in  the  picture  of 
the  Pilgrims  to  Canterbury.  All  the  transport  of  freight  as  well 
as  passengers  is  by  the  backs  of  beasts  of  burden.  There  are  long 
files  of  horses  and  mules  staggering  imder  enormous  loads  of 
trunks,  tents,  and  bags.  Dragomans,  some  of  them  got  up  in 
fierce  style,  with  baggy  yellow  trousers,  yellow  kuffias  bound 
about  the  head  with  a  twisted  fillet,  armed  with  long  Damascus 
swords,  their  belts  stuck  full  of  pistols,  and  a  rifle  slung  on  the 
back,  gallop  furiously  along  the  line,  the  signs  of  danger  but  the 
assurances  of  protection.  Camp  boys  and  waiters  dash  along 
also,  on  the  pack-horses,  with  a  great  clatter  of  kitchen  furniture  ; 
even  a  scullion  has  an  air  of  adventure  as  he  povmds  his  rack-a- 
bone  steed  into  a  vicious  gallop.  And  there  are  the  Cook's  tour- 
ists, called  by  everybody  "  Cookies,"  men  and  women  struggling 
on  according  to  the  pace  of  their  horses,  conspicuous  in  hats  with 
white  muslin  drapery  hanging  over  the  neck.  Villanous-looking 
fellows  with  or  without  long  guns,  coming  and  going  on  the 
highway,  have  the  air  of  being  ndther  pilgrims  nor  strangers. 
We  meet  women  returning  from  Jerusalem  clad  in  white,  seated 
astride  their  horses,  or  upon  beds  which  top  their  multifarious 
baggage. 

We  are  leaving  behind  us  on  the  right  the  country  of  Sam- 


20  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

son,  in  which  he  passed  his  playful  and  engaging  bo\'hood,  and 
we  look  wistfully  towards  it.  Of  Zorah,  where  he  was  born, 
nothing  is  left  but  a  cistern,  and  there  is  only  a  wretched  hamlet 
to  mark  the  site  of  Tiranath,  where  he  got  his  Philistine  wife. 
"  Get  her  for  me,  for  she  pleaseth  me  well,"  was  his  only  reply  to 
the  entreaty  of  his  father  that  he  would  be  content  with  a  maid  of 
his  own  people. 

The  country  gets  wilder  and  more  rocky  as  we  ascend.  Down 
the  ragged  side  paths  come  wretched  women  and  girls,  staggering 
under  the  loads  of  brushwood  which  they  have  cut  in  the  high 
ravines ;  loads  borne  iipon  the  head  that  would  tax  the  strength 
of  a  strong  man.  I  found  it  no  easy  task  to  lift  one  of  the  bun- 
dles. The  poor  creatures  were  scantily  clad  in  a  single  garment 
of  coarse  brown  cloth,  but  most  of  them  wore  a  profusion  of  orna- 
ments; stiings  of  coins,  Turkish  and  Arabic,  on  the  head  and 
breast,  and  uncouth  rings  and  bracelets.  Farther  on  a  rabble 
of  boys  besets  us,  begging  for  backsheesh  in  piteous  and  whin- 
ing tones,  and  throwing  up  their  arms  in  theatrical  gestures  of 
despair. 

All  the  hills  bear  marks  of  having  once  been  terraced  to  the 
very  tops,  for  vines  and  olives.  The  natural  ledges  seem  to  have 
been  humored  into  terraces  and  occasionally  built  up  and  broad- 
ened by  stone  walls ;  but  where  the  hill  was  smooth,  traces  of 
terraces  are  yet  visible.  The  grape  is  still  cultivated  low  down 
the  steeps,  and  the  olives  straggle  over  some  of  the  hills  to  the 
very  top;  but  these  feeble  efforts  of  culture  or  of  nature  do  little 
to  relieve  the  deserted  aspect  of  the  scene. 

We  lunch  in  a  pretty  olive  grove,  upon  a  slope  long  ago  ter- 
raced and  now  grass-grown  and  flower-sown ;  lovely  vistas  open 
into  cool  glades,  and  paths  lead  upward  among  the  rocks  to  in- 
viting retreats.  From  this  high  perch  in  the  bosom  of  the  hills 
we  look  off  upon  Ramleh,  Jaffa,  the  broad  Plain  of  Sharon,  and 
the  sea.  A  strip  of  sand  between  the  sea  and  the  plain  produces 
the  effect  of  a  mirage,  giving  to  the  plain  the  appearance  of  the 
sea.  It  Avould  be  a  charming  spot  for  a  country-seat  for  a  resi- 
dent of  Jerusalem,  although  Jerusalem  itself  is  rural  enough  at 
present;  and  David  and  Solomon  may  have  had  summer  pavilions 


FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM.  21 

in  these  cool  shades  in  sight  of  the  Mediterranean.  David  him- 
self, however,  perhaps  had  enough  of  this  region  —  when  he 
dodged  about  in  these  fastnesses  between  Ramah  and  Gath,  from 
the  pursuit  of  Saul  —  to  make  him  content  with  a  city  life. 
There  is  nothing  to  hinder  our  believing  that  he  often  enjoyed 
this  prospect ;  and  Ave  do  believe  it,  for  it  is  already  evident  that 
the  imagination  must  be  called  in  to  create  an  enjoyment  of  this 
deserted  land.  David  no  doubt  loved  this  spot.  For  David  was 
a  poet,  even  at  this  early  period  when  his  occupation  was  that  of 
a  successful  guerilla ;  and  he  had  aU  the  true  poet's  adaptability, 
as  witness  the  exquisite  ode  he  composed  on  the  death  of  his 
enemy  Saul.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  enjoyed  this  lovely  pros- 
pect often,  for  he  was  a  man  who  enjoyed  heartily  everything 
lovely.  He  was  in  this  as  in  all  he  did  a  thorough  man ;  when 
he  made  a  raid  on  an  Amorite  city,  he  left  neither  man,  woman, 
nor  child  alive  to  spread  the  news. 

We  have  already  mounted  over  two  thousand  feet.  The  rocks 
are  silicious  limestone,  crumbling  and  gray  with  ages  of  ex- 
posure ;  they  give  the  landscape  an  ashy  appearance.  But  there 
is  always  a  little  verdure  amid  the  rocks,  and  now  and  then  an 
olive-tree,  perhaps  a  very  old  one,  decrepit  and  twisted  into  the 
most  fantastic  form,  as  if  distorted  by  a  vegetable  rheumatism, 
casting  abroad  its  withered  arms  as  if  the  tree  AATithed  in  pain. 
On  such  ghostly  trees  I  have  no  doubt  the  five  kings  were  hanged. 
Another  tree  or  rather  shrub  is  abundant,  the  dwarf-oak;  and 
the  hawthorn,  now  in  blossom,  is  frequently  seen.  The  rock- 
rose  —  a  delicate  white  single  flower  —  blooms  by  the  wayside 
and  amid  the  ledges,  and  the  scarlet  anemone  flames  out  more 
brilliantly  than  ever.  Nothing  indeed  could  be  more  beautiful 
than  the  contrast  of  the  clusters  of  scarlet  anemones  and  white 
roses  with  the  gray  rocks. 

We  soon  descend  into  a  valley  and  reach  the  site  of  Kirjath- 
Jearim,  which  has  not  much  ancient  interest  for  me,  except  that 
the  name  is  pleasing ;  but  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream  and 
opposite  a  Moslem  fountain  are  the  gloomy  stone  habitations  of 
the  family  of  the  terrible  Abu  Ghaush,  whose  robberies  of  trav- 
ellers kept  the  whole  country  in  a  panic  a  quarter  of  a  century 


22  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

ago.  He  held  the  key  of  this  pass,  and  let  no  one  go  by  without 
toll.  For  fifty  years  he  and  his  companions  defied  the  Turkish 
government,  and  even  went  to  the  extremity  of  murdering  two 
pashas  who  attempted  to  pass  this  way.  He  was  disposed  of  in 
1846,  but  his  descendants  still  live  here,  having  the  inclination 
but  not  the  courage  of  the  old  chief.  We  did  not  encounter  any 
of  them,  but  I  have  never  seen  any  buildings  that  have  such  a 
wicked  physiognomy  as  their  grim  houses. 

Near  by  is  the  ruin  of  a  low,  thick-walled  chapel,  of  a  pure 
Gothic  style,  a  remnant  of  the  Crusaders'  occupation.  The 
gloomy  wady  has  another  association ;  a  monkish  tradition  would 
have  us  believe  it  was  the  birthplace  of  Jeremiah ;  if  the  prophet 
was  born  in  such  a  hard  country  it  might  account  for  his  lamen- 
tations. As  we  pass  out  of  this  wady,  the  German  driver  points 
to  a  forlorn  village  clinging  to  the  rocky  slope  of  a  hill  to  the 
right,  and  says,  — 

"  That  is  where  John  Baptist  was  born." 

The  information  is  sudden  and  seems  improbable,  especially  as 
there  are  other  places  where  he  was  born. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  we  ask. 

"  0,  I  know  ganz  wohl ;  1  been  five  years  in  dis  land,  and  I 
ught  to  know." 

Descending  into  a  deep  ravine  we  cross  a  brook,  which  we  are 
told  is  the  one  that  flows  into  the  Valley  of  Elah,  the  valley  of 
the  "  terebinth  "  or  button  trees ;  and  if  so,  it  is  the  brook  out  of 
which  David  took  the  stone  that  killed  Goliath.  It  is  a  bright, 
dashing  stream.  I  stood  upon  the  bridge,  watching  it  dancing 
down  the  ravine,  and  should  have  none  but  agreeable  recollections 
of  it,  but  that  close  to  the  bridge  stood  a  vile  grog-shop,  and  in 
the  doorway  sat  the  most  villanous-looking  man  I  ever  saw  in 
Judaea,  rapacity  and  murder  in  his  eyes.  The  present  generation 
have  much  more  to  fear  from  him  and  his  dnigged  liquors  than 
the  Israelite  had  from  the  giant  of  Gath. 

"While  the  wagon  zigzags  up  the  last  long  hill,  I  mount  by  a 
short  path  and  come  upon  a  rocky  plateau,  across  which  runs  a 
broad  way,  on  the  bed  rock,  worn  smooth  by  many  centuries  of 
travel :  by  the  passing  of  caravans  and  armies  to '  Jerusalem,  of 


FROM  JAFFxV  TO  JERUSALEM.  23 

innumerable  generations  of  peasants,  of  chariots,  of  horses,  mules, 
and  foot-soldiers ;  here  went  the  messengers  of  the  king's  pleas- 
ure, and  here  came  the  heralds  and  legates  of  foreign  nations; 
this  great  highway  the  kings  and  prophets  themselves  must  have 
trodden  when  they  journeyed  towards  the  sea ;  for  1  cannot  learn 
that  the  Jews  ever  had  any  decent  roads,  and  perhaps  they  never 
attained  the  civilization  necessary  to  build  them.  We  have  cer- 
tainly seen  no  traces  of  anything  like  a  practicable  ancient  high- 
way on  this  route. 

Indeed,  the  greatest  wonder  to  me  in  the  whole  East  is  that 
there  has  not  been  a  good  road  built  from  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem ; 
that  the  city  sacred  to  more  than  half  the  world,  to  all  the  most 
powerful  nations,  to  Moslems,  Jews,  Greeks,  Roman  Catholics, 
Protestants,  the  desire  of  all  lands,  and  the  object  of  pilgrimage 
with  the  delicate  and  the  feeble  as  well  as  the  strong,  should  not 
have  a  highway  to  it  over  which  one  can  ride  without  being 
jarred  and  stunned  and  pounded  to  a  jelly ;  that  the  Jews  should 
never  have  made  a  road  to  their  seaport ;  that  the  Romans,  the 
road-builders,  do  not  seem  to  have  constructed  one  over  this 
important  route.  The  Sultan  began  this  one  over  which  we  have 
been  dragged,  for  the  Empress  Eugenie.  But  he  did  not  finish 
it ;  most  of  the  way  it  is  a  mere  rubble  of  stones.  The  track  is 
well  engineered,  and  the  road  bed  is  well  enough ;  soft  stone  is 
at  hand  to  form  an  excellent  dressing,  and  it  might  be,  in  a  short 
time,  as  good  a  highway  as  any  in  Switzerland,  if  the  Sultan 
would  set  some  of  his  lazy  subjects  to  work  out  their  taxes  on  it. 
Of  course,  it  is  now  a  great  improvement  over  the  old  path  for 
mides ;  but  as  a  carriage  road  it  is  atrocious.  Imagine  thirty- 
six  miles  of  cobble  pavement,  with  every  other  stone  gone  and  the 
remainder  shai-pened  ! 

Perhaps,  however,  it  is  best  not  to  have  a  decent  road  to  the 
Holy  City  of  the  world.  It  would  make  going  there  easy,  even 
for  delicate  ladies  and  invalid  clergymen ;  it  Avould  reduce  the 
cost  of  the  trip  from  Jaffa  by  two  thirds  ;  it  would  take  away  em- 
ployment from  a  lot  of  vagabonds  who  harry  the  traveller  over 
the  route  ;  it  would  make  the  pilgi-image  too  much  a  luxuiy,  in 
these  days  of  pdgrimages  by  rail,  and  of  little  faith,  or  rather  of 
a  sort  of  lacquer  of  faith  which  is  only  credulity. 


24  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Upon  this  plateau  we  begin  to  discern  signs  of  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  city,  and  we  press  forward  with  the  utmost  eagerness, 
disappointed  at  every  turn  that  a  sight  of  it  is  not  disclosed. 
Scattered  settlements  extend  for  some  distance  out  on  the  Jaffa 
road.  We  pass  a  school  Avhich  the  Germans  have  established  for 
Arab  boys ;  an  institution  which  does  not  meet  the  approval  of 
our  restoration  driver ;  the  boys,  when  they  come  out,  he  says, 
don't  know  what  they  are ;  they  are  neither  Moslems  nor  Chris- 
tians. We  go  rapidly  on  over  the  swelling  hill,  but  the  city  will 
not  reveal  itself.  We  expect  it  any  moment  to  rise  up  before  us, 
conspicuous  on  its  ancient  hills,  its  walls  shining  in  the  sun. 
We  pass  a  guard-house,  some  towers,  and  newly  built  private 
residences.  Our  pulses  are  beating  a  hundred  to  the  minute,  but 
the  city  refuses  to  "  burst "  upon  us  as  it  does  upon  other  travel- 
lers. We  have  advanced  far  enough  to  see  that  there  is  no  eleva- 
tion before  us  higher  than  that  we  are  on.  The  great  sight  of  all 
our  lives  is  only  a  moment  separated  from  us  ;  in  a  few  rods  more 
our  hearts  will  be  satisfied  by  that  long-dreamed-of  prospect. 
How  many  millions  of  pilgrims  have  hun-ied  along  this  road,  lift- 
ing up  their  eyes  in  impatience  for  the  vision !  But  it  does  not 
come  suddenly.  We  have  already  seen  it,  when  the  driver  stops, 
points  with  his  whip,  and  cries,  — 

"Jerusalem!" 

"  What,  that  ?  " 

We  are  above  it  and  nearly  upon  it.  What  we  see  is  chiefly 
this :  the  domes  and  long  buildings  of  the  Russian  Hospice,  on 
higher  ground  than  the  city  and  concealing  a  good  part  of  it ;  a 
large  number  of  new  houses,  built  of  limestone  prettily  streaked 
with  the  red  oxyde  of  iron ;  the  roofs  of  a  few  of  the  city  houses, 
and  a  little  portion  of  the  wall  that  overlooks  the  Valley  of  Hin- 
nom.  The  remainder  of  the  city  of  David  is  visible  to  the  im- 
agination. 

The  suburb  through  which  we  pass  cannot  be  called  pleasing. 
Everything  outside  the  walls  looks  new  and  naked ;  the  whitish 
glare  of  the  stone  is  relieved  by  little  vegetation,  and  the  effect  is 
that  of  barrenness.  As  we  drive  down  along  the  wall  of  the  Rus- 
sian convent,  avc  begin  to  meet  pilgrims  and  strangers,  with  whom 


FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM.  25 

the  city  overflows  at  this  season ;  many  Russian  peasants,  un- 
tempt,  unsavory  fellows,  mth  long  hair  and  dirty  apparel,  but 
most  of  them  wearing  a  pelisse  trimmed  with  fur  and  a  huge  fur 
hat.  There  are  coffee-houses  and  all  sorts  of  cheap  booths  and 
shanty  shops  along  the  highway.  The  crowd  is  motley  and  far 
from  pleasant;  it  is  sordid,  grimy,  hard,  very  different  from  the 
more  homogeneous,  easy,  flowing,  graceful,  and  picturesque  assem- 
blage of  vagabonds  at  the  gate  of  an  Eg^^ptian  town.  There  are 
Russians,  Cossacks,  Georgians,  Jews,  Armenians,  Syrians.  The 
northern  dirt  and  squalor  and  fanaticism  do  not  come  gracefully 
into  the  Orient.  Besides,  the  rabble  is  importunate  and  im- 
pudent. 

We  enter  by  the  Jaffa  and  Hebron  gate,  a  big  square  tower, 
with  the  exterior  entrance  to  the  north  and  the  interior  to  the 
east,  and  the  short  turn  is  choked  with  camels  and  horses  and 
a  clamorous  crowd.  Beside  it  stands  the  ruinous  citadel  of 
Saladin  and  the  Tower  of  David,  a  noble  entrance  to  a  mean 
street.  Through  the  rush  of  footmen  and  horsemen,  beggars, 
venders  of  olive-wood,  Moslems,  Jews,  and  Greeks,  we  make  our 
way  to  the  Mediterranean  Hotel,  a  rambling  new  hostelry.  In 
passing  to  our  rooms  we  pause  a  moment  upon  an  open  balcony 
to  look  down  into  the  gi-een  Pool  of  Hezekiah,  and  off  over  the 
roofs  to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Having  secured  om*  rooms,  I- 
hasten  along  narrow  and  abominably  cobbled  streets,  mere  ditches 
of  stone,  lined  with  mean  shops,  to  the  Centre  of  the  Earth,  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 


II. 

JEEUSALEM. 


IT  was  in  obedience  to  a  natural  but  probably  mistaken  impulse, 
that  I  went  straight  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  dur- 
ing my  first  hour  in  the  city.  Perhaps  it  was  a  mistake  to  go 
there  at  all ;  certainly  I  should  have  waited  untU  I  had  become 
more  accustomed  to  holy  places.  When  a  person  enters  this 
memorable  church,  as  I  did,  expecting  to  see  only  two  sacred 
sites,  and  is  brought  immediately  face  to  face  with  t Jar tij -seven, 
his  mind  is  staggered,  and  his  credulity  becomes  so  enfeebled 
that  it  is  practically  useless  to  him  thereafter  in  any  part  of  the 
Holy  City.  And  this  is  a  pity,  for  it  is  so  much  easier  and 
sweeter  to  believe  than  to  doubt. 

It  woidd  have  been  better,  also,  to  have  visited  Jerusalem  many 
years  ago ;  tlien  there  were  fewer  sacred  sites  invented,  and  schol- 
arly investigation  had  not  so  sharply  questioned  the  authenticity 
of  the  few.  But  I  thought  of  none  of  these  things  as  I  stimibled 
along  the  narrow  and  filthy  streets,  which  are  stony  channels  of 
mud  and  water,  rather  than  foot-paths,  and  peeped  into  the  dirty 
little  shops  that  line  the  way.  I  thought  only  that  I  was  in  Jeru- 
salem ;  and  it  was  impossible,  at  first,  for  its  near  appearance  to 
empty  the  name  of  its  tremendous  associations,  or  to  drive  out 
the  image  of  that  holy  city,  "  conjubilant  with  song." 

I  had  seen  the  dome  of  the  church  from  the  hotel  balcony ;  the 
building  itself  is  so  hemmed  in  by  houses  that  only  its  south  side, 
in  which  is  the  sole  entrance,  can  be  seen  from  the  street.  In 
fi-ont  of  this  entrance  is  a  small  square ;  the  descent  Jo  this  square 
is  by  a  flight  of  steps  down  Palmer  Street,  a  lane  given  up  to  the 


JERUSALEM.  27 

traffic  in  beads,  olive-wood,  ivorj^-carving,  and  the  thousand  trin- 
kets, most  of  them  cheap  and  inartistic,  which  absorb  the  industry 
of  the  Holy  City.  The  little  square  itself,  surrounded  by  ancient 
buildings  on  three  sides  and  by  the  blackened  walls  of  the  church 
on  the  north,  might  be  set  down  in  a  mediaeval  Italian  town  with- 
out incongruity.  And  at  the  hour  I  first  saw  it,  you  would  have 
said  that  a  market  or  fair  was  in  progi'ess  there.  This,  however, 
I  found  was  its  normal  condition.  It  is  always  occupied  by  a 
horde  of  more  clamorous  and  impudent  merchants  than  you  will 
find  in  any  other  place  in  the  Orient. 

It  is  with  some  difficulty  that  the  pilgi'im  can  get  through  the 
throng  and  approach  the  portal.  The  pavement  is  covered  with 
heaps  of  beads,  shells,  and  every  species  of  holy  fancy-work,  by 
which  are  seated  the  traders,  men  and  women,  in  wait  for  custom- 
ers. The  moment  I  stopped  to  look  at  the  church,  and  it  was 
discovered  that  I  Avas  a  new-comer,  a  rush  was  made  at  me  from 
every  part  of  the  square,  and  I  was  at  once  the  centre  of  the  most 
eager  and  hungiy  crowd.  Shai*p-faced  Greeks,  impudent  Jews, 
fair-faced  women  from  Bethlehem,  sleek  Armenians,  thrust  strings 
of  rude  olive  beads  and  crosses  into  my  face,  forced  upon  my 
notice  trumpeiy  carving  in  ivory,  in  nuts,  in  seeds,  and  screamed 
prices  and  entreaties  in  chorus,  bidding  against  each  other  and 
holding  fast  to  me,  as  if  I  were  the  last  man,  and  this  were  the 
last  opportunity  they  would  ever  have  of  getting  rid  of  their  rub- 
bish. Handfuls  of  beads  rapidly  feU  from  five  francs  to  half  a 
franc,  and  the  dealers  insisted  upon  my  buying,  with  a  threaten- 
ing air;  I  remember  one  hard-featured  and  rapacious  wretch  who 
danced  about  and  clung  to  me,  and  looked  into  my  eyes  with  an 
expression  that  said  plainly,  "  If  you  don't  buy  these  beads  I  '11 
murder  you."  My  recollection  is  that  I  bought,  for  I  never  can 
resist  a  persuasion  of  this  sort.  Whenever  I  saw  the  fellow  in  the 
square  afterwards,  I  always  fancied  that  he  regarded  me  with  a 
sort  of  contempt,  but  he  made  no  further  attempt  on  my  life. 

This  is  the  sort  of  preparation  that  one  daily  has  in  approach- 
ing the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  The  greed  and  noise  of 
traffic  around  it  are  as  fatal  to  sentiment  as  they  are  to  devotion. 
You  may  be  amused  one  day,  you  may  be  indignant  the  next ; 


28  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

at  last  you  will  be  weary  of  the  importunate  crowd ;  and  the  or.ly 
consolation  you  can  get  from  these  daily  scenes  of  the  desecration 
of  the  temple  of  pilgrimage  is  the  proof  they  afford  that  this  is 
indeed  Jerusalem,  and  that  these  are  the  legitimate  descendants 
of  the  thieves  whom  Christ  scourged  from  the  precincts  of  the 
temple.  Alas  that  they  shoidd  thrive  under  the  new  dispensation 
as  they  did  under  the  old ! 

A  considerable  part  of  the  present  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
clii*e  is  not  more  than  sixty  years  old ;  but  the  massive,  caiTcd, 
and  dark  south  portal,  and  the  remains  of  the  old  towers  and  walls 
on  this  side,  may  be  eight  hundred.  There  has  been  some  sort 
of  a  church  here  ever  since  the  time  of  Constantine  (that  is,  three 
centuries  after  the  crucifixion  of  our  Lord),  which  has  marked  the 
spot  that  was  then  determined  to  be  the  site  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre. Many  a  time  the  buildings  have  been  swept  away  by  fire 
or  by  the  fanaticism  of  enemies,  but  they  have  as  often  been  re- 
newed. There  would  seem  at  first  to  have  been  a  cluster  of  build- 
ings here,  each  of  which  arose  to  cover  a  newly  discovered  sacred 
site.  Happily,  all  the  sacred  places  are  now  included  within  the 
walls  of  this  many -roofed,  heterogeneous  mass  of  chapels,  shrines, 
tombs,  and  altars  of  worship  of  many  warring  sects,  called  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

Happily  also  the  exhaustive  discussion  of  the  question  of  the 
true  site  of  the  sepulchre,  conducted  by  the  most  devout  and  ac- 
complished biblical  scholars  and  the  keenest  antiquarians  of  the 
age,  relieves  the  ordinary  tourist  from  any  obligation,  to  enter  upon 
an  investigation  that  would  interest  none  but  those  who  have  been 
upon  the  spot.  No  doubt  the  larger  portion  of  the  Christian 
world  accepts  this  site  as  the  true  one. 

I  make  Avith  diffidence  a  suggestion  that  struck  me,  although 
it  may  not  be  new.  The  Pool  of  Hezekiah  is  not  over  four  hun- 
dred feet,  measured  on  the  map,  from  the  dome  of  the  sepulchre. 
Under  the  church  itself  are  several  large  excavations  in  the  rocks, 
which  were  once  cisterns.  Ancient  Jerusalem  depended  for  its 
water  upon  these  cisterns,  which  took  the  drainage  from  the  roofs, 
and  upon  a  few  pools,  like  that  of  Hezekiah,  which  were  fed  from 
other  reservoirs,  such  as  Solomon's  Pool,  at  a  considerable  dis- 


JERUSALEM.  29 

tance  from  t'tie  city.  These  cisterns  under  the  church  may  not 
date  back  to  the  time  of  our  Lord,  but  if  they  do,  they  Avere 
doubtless  at  that  time  within  the  walls.  And  of  course  the  Pool 
of  Hezekiah,  so  near  to  this  alleged  site,  cannot  be  supposed  to 
have  been  beyond  the  walls. 

Within  the  door  of  the  church,  upon  a  raised  divan  at  one  side, 
as  if  this  were  a  bazaar  and  he  were  the  merchant,  sat  a  fat  Turk, 
in  official  dress,  the  sneering  warden  of  this  Christian  edifice,  and 
the  perhaps  necessary  guardian  of  peace  within.  His  presence 
there,  however,  is  at  first  a  disagreeable  surprise  to  all  those  who 
rebel  at  owing  an  approach  to  the  holy  place  to  the  toleration  of 
a  Moslem ;  but  I  was  quite  relieved  of  any  sense  of  obligation 
when,  upon  coming  out,  the  Turk  asked  me  for  backsheesh  ! 

Whatever  one  may  think  as  to  the  site  of  Calvary,  no  one  can 
approach  a  spot  which  even  claims  to  be  it,  and  which  has  been 
for  centuries  the  object  of  worship  of  millions,  and  is  constantly 
thronged  by  believing  pilgrims,  mthout  profound  emotion.  It 
was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  entered  the  church,  and  already 
the  shades  of  evening  increased  the  artificial  gloom  of  the  interior. 
At  the  very  entrance  lies  an  object  that  arrests  one.  It  is  a  long 
marble  slab  resting  upon  the  pavement,  about  which  candles  are 
burning.  Every  devout  pilgrim  who  comes  in  kneels  and  kisses 
it,  and  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  see  it  for  the  crowds  who  press 
about  it.  Underneath  it  is  supposed  to  be  the  Stone  of  Unction 
upon  which  the  Lord's  body  was  laid,  according  to  the  Jewish 
fashion,  for  anointing,  after  he  was  taken  from  the  cross. 

I  turned  directly  into  the  rotunda,  under  the  dome  of  which  is 
the  stone  building  enclosing  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  a  ruder  structure 
than  that  which  covers  the  hut  and  tomb  of  St.  Prancis  in  the 
church  at  Assisi.  I  met  in  the  way  a  procession  of  Latin  monks, 
bearing  candles,  and  chanting  as  they  walked.  They  were  mak- 
ing the  round  of  the  holy  places  in  the  church,  this  being  their 
hour  for  the  tour.  The  sects  have  agreed  upon  certain  hours  for 
these  little  daily  pilgrimages,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  collision. 
A  rabble  of  pilgrims  followed  the  monks.  They  had  just  come 
from  incensing  and  adoring  the  sepulchre,  and  the  crowd  of  other 
pilgrims  who  had  been  waiting  their  turn  were  now  pressing  in 


30  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

at  the  narrow  door.  As  many  times  as  I  have  been  there,  I  have 
always  seen  pilg-rims  struggling  to  get  in  and  struggling  to  get 
out.  The  proud  and  the  humble  crowd  there  together ;  the 
greasy  boor  from  beyond  the  Volga  jostles  my  lady  from  Naples, 
and  the  dainty  pilgrim  from  America  pushes  her  way  through  a 
throng  of  stout  Armenian  peasants.  But  I  have  never  seen  any 
disorder  there,  nor  any  rudeness,  except  the  thoughtless  eager- 
ness of  zeal. 

Taking  my  chance  in  the  line,  I  passed  into  the  first  apart- 
ment, called  the  Chapel  of  the  Angel,  a  narrow  and  gloomy  ante- 
chamber, which  takes  its  name  from  the  fragment  of  stone  in  the 
centre,  the  stone  upon  which  the  angel  sat  after  it  had  been  rolled 
away'  from  the  sepulchre.  A  stream  of  light  came  through  the 
low  and  narrow  door  of  the  tomb.  Through  the  passage  to 
this  vault  only  one  person  can  enter  at  a  time,  and  the  tomb  will 
hold  no  more  than  three  or  four.  Stooping  along  the  passage, 
which  is  cased  with  marble  like  the  tomb,  and  may  cover  natural 
rock,  I  |Came  into  the  sacred  place,  and  into  a  blaze  of  silver 
lamps,  and  candles.  The  vault  is  not  more  than  six  feet  by 
seven,  and  is  covered  by  a  low  dome.  The  sepidchral  stone  occu- 
pies all  the  right  side,  and  is  the  object  of  devotion.  It  is  of 
marble,  supposed  to  cover  natural  stone,  and  is  cracked  and  worn 
smooth  on  the  edge  by  the  kisses  of  millions  of  people.  The 
attendant  who  stood  at  one  end  opened  a  little  trap-door,  in  which 
lamp-cloths  were  kept,  and  let  me  see  the  naked  rock,  which  is 
said  to  be  that  of  the  tomb.  While  I  stood  there  in  that  very 
centre  of  the  faith  and  longing  of  so  many  souls,  which  seemed 
almost  to  palpitate  with  a  consciousness  of  its  awfid  position, 
pilgrim  after  pilgrim,  on  bended  knees,  entered  the  narrow  way, 
kissed  with  fervor  or  with  coldness  the  unresponsive  marble,  and 
withdrew  in  the  same  attitude.  Some  approached  it  with  stream- 
ing eyes  and  kissed  it  with  trembling  rapture  ;  some  ladies  threw 
themselves  upon  the  cold  stone  and  sobbed  aloud.  Indeed,  I  did 
not  of  my  own  will  intrude  upon  these  acts  of  devotion,  which 
have  the  right  of  secrecy,  but  it  was  some  time  before  I  could 
escape,  so  completely  was  the  entrance  blocked  up.  When  I  had 
struggled  out,  I  heard  chanting  from  the  hill  of  Golgotha,  and 


JERUSALEM.  31 

saw  the  gleaming  of  a  timdred  lights  from  chapel  and  tomb  and 
remote  recesses,  but  I  cared  to  see  no  more  of  the  temple  itself 
that  day. 

The  next  morning  (it  was  the  7th  of  April)  Avas  very  cold,  and 
the  day  continued  so.  Without,  the  air  was  keen,  and  within  it 
was  nearly  impossible  to  get  warm  or  keep  so,  in  the  thick-walled 
houses,  which  had  gathered  the  damp  and  chill  of  dungeons. 
You  might  suppose  that  the  dirtiest  and  most  beggarly  city  in  the 
world  could  not  be  much  deteriorated  by  the  weather,  but  it  is. 
In  a  cheerful,  sunny  day  you  find  that  the  desolation  of  Jerusalem 
has  a  certain  charm  and  attraction  :  even  a  tattered  Jew  leaning 
against  a  ruined  wall,  or  a  beggar  on  a  dunghill,  is  picturesque 
in  the  sunshine  ;  but  if  you  put  a  day  of  chill  rain  and  frosty 
wind  into  the  city,  none  of  the  elements  of  complete  misery  are 
wanting.  There  is  nothing  to  be  done,  day  or  night;  indeed, 
there  is  nothing  ever  to  be  done  in  the  evening,  except  to  read 
your  guide-book  —  that  is,  the  Bible  —  and  go  to  bed.  You  are 
obliged  to  act  like  a  Christian  here,  whatever  you  are. 

Speaking  of  the  weather,  a  word  about  the  time  for  -sqsiting 
Syria  may  not  be  amiss.  In  the  last  part  of  March  the  snow  Avas  a 
foot  deep  in  the  streets  ;  parties  who  had  started  on  their  tour 
northward  were  snowed  in  and  forced  to  hide  in  their  tents  three 
days  from  the  howling  winter.  There  is  pleasure  for  you  !  "We 
found  friends  in  the  city  who  had  been  waiting  two  weeks  after 
they  had  exhausted  its  sights,  for  settled  weather  that  would  per- 
mit them'  to  travel  northward.  To  be  sure,  the  inhabitants  say 
that  this  last  storm  ought  to  have  been  rain  instead  of  snow, 
according  to  the  habit  of  the  seasons  ;  and  it  no  doubt  Avould 
have  been  if  this  region  were  not  twenty-five  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea.  The  hardships  of  the  Syrian  tour  are  enough  in  the 
best  weather,  and  I  am  convinced  that  our  dragoman  is  right  in 
saying  that  most  travellers  begin  it  too  early  in  the  spring. 

Jerusalem  is  not  a  formidable  city  to  the  explorer  who  is  con- 
tent to  remain  above  ground,  and  is  not  too  curious  about  its 
substructions  and  buried  walls,  and  has  no  taste,  as  some  have, 
for  crawling  through  its  drains.  I  suppose  it  would  elucidate  the 
history  of  the  Jews  if  we  could  dig  all  this  hiU  away  and  lay  bare 


32  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

all  the  old  foundations,  and  ascertain  exactly  how  the  city  was 
watered.  I,  for  one,  am  gi-ateful  to  the  excellent  man  and  great 
scholar  who  crawled  on  his  hands  and  knees  through  a  subter- 
ranean conduit,  and  established  the  fact  of  a  connection  between 
the  Fountain  of  the  Virgin  and  the  Pool  of  Siloam.  But  I  would 
rather  contribute  money  to  establish  a  school  for  girls  in  the  Holy 
City,  than  to  aid  in  laying  bare  all  the  aqueducts  fi-om  Ophel  to 
the  Tower  of  David.  But  this  is  probably  because  I  do  not 
enough  appreciate  the  importance  of  such  researches  among  Jew- 
ish remains  to  the  progress  of  Christian  truth  and  morality  in  the 
world.  The  discoveries  hitherto  made  have  done  much  to  clear 
up  the  topography  of  ancient  Jerusalem ;  I  do  not  know  that 
they  have  yielded  anything  valuable  to  art  or  to  philology,  any 
treasures  illustrating  the  habits,  the  social  life,  the  culture,  or  the 
religion  of  the  past,  such  as  are  revealed  beneath  the  soil  of 
Eomc  or  in  the  ashes  of  Pompeii ;  it  is,  however,  true  that  al- 
most every  tourist  in  Jerusalem  becomes  speedily  involved  in  all 
these  questions  of  ancient  sites,  —  the  identification  of  valleys 
that  once  existed,  of  walls  that  are  now  sunk  under  the  accumu- 
lated rubbish  of  two  thousand  years,  from  thirty  feet  to  ninety 
feet  deep,  and  of  foundations  that  are  rough  enough  and  massive 
enough  to  have  been  laid  by  David  and  cemented  by  Solomon. 
And  the  fascination  of  the  pursuit  would  soon  send  one  under- 
ground, with  a  pickaxe  and  a  shovel.  But  of  all  the  diggings  I 
saw  in  the  Holy  City,  that  which  interested  me  most  was  the 
excavation  of  the  church  and  hospital  of  the  chivalric  Knights  of 
St.  John  ;  concerning  which  I  shall  say  a  word  further  on. 

The  present  walls  were  built  by  Sultan  Sideiman  in  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  upon  foundations  much  older,  and  here 
and  there,  as  you  can  see,  upon  big  blocks  of  Jewish  workman- 
ship. The  wall  is  high  enough  and  very  picturesque  in  its  zig-zag 
course  and  re-entering  angles,  and,  I  suppose,  strong  enough  to 
hitch  a  horse  to  ;  but  cannon-balls  would  make  short  work  of  it. 

Having  said  thus  much  of  the  topography,  gratuitously  and 
probably  unnecessarily,  for  every  one  is  supposed  to  know  Jeru- 
salem as  well  as  he  knows  his  native  town,  Ave  are  free  to  look  at 
anything  that  may  chance  to  interest  us.     1  do  not  expect,  how- 


JERUSALEM.  33 

ever,  that  any  words  of  mine  can  convey  to  the  reader  a  just  con- 
ception of  the  sterile  and  blasted  character  of  this  promontory 
and  the  country  round  about  it,  or  of  the  squalor,  shabbiness,  and 
unpicturesqueness  of  the  city,  always  excepting  a  few  of  its  budd- 
ings and  some  fi'agments  of  antiquity  built  into  modern  structures 
liere  and  there.  And  it  is  difficult  to  feel  that  this  spot  was  ever 
the  splendid  capital  of  a  powerful  state,  that  this  arid  and  stricken 
country  could  ever  have  supplied  the  necessities  of  such  a  capital, 
and,  above  all,  that  so  many  Jews  could  ever  have  been  crowded 
within  this  cramped  space  as  Josephus  says  perished  in  the  siege 
by  Titus,  when  ninety-seven  thousand  were  carried  into  captivity 
and  eleven  hundred  thousand  died  by  famine  and  the  sword. 
Almost  the  entire  Jewish  nation  must  have  been  packed  within 
this  small  area. 

Our  first  Avalk  through  the  city  was  in  the  Via  Dolorosa,  as 
gloomy  a  thoroughfare  as  its  name  implies.  Its  historical  por- 
tion is  that  steep  and  often  angled  part  between  the  Holy  SepuU 
chre  and  the  house  of  Pilate,  but  we  traversed  the  whole  length 
of  it  to  make  our  exit  from  St.  Stephen's  Gate  toward  the  Mount 
of  Olives.  It  is  only  about  four  hundred  years  ago  that  this 
street  obtained  the  name  of  the  Via  Dolorosa,  and  that  the  sacred 
"  stations  "  on  it  were  marked  out  for  the  benefit  of  the  pilgrim. 
It  is  a  naiTow  lane,  steep  in  places,  having  frequent  sharp  angles, 
running  under  arches,  and  passing  between  gloomy  buildings, 
enlivened  by  few  shops.  Along  this  way  Christ  passed  from  the 
Judgment  Hall  of  Pdate  to  Calvary.  I  do  not  know  how  many 
times  the  houses  along  it  have  been  destroyed  and  rebuilt  since 
their  conflagration  by  Titus,  but  this  destruction  is  no  obstacle 
to  the  existence  intact  of  all  that  are  necessary  to  illustrate  the 
Passion-pilgrimage  of  our  Lord.  In  this  street  I  saw  the  house 
of  Simon  the  Cyrenian,  who  bore  the  cross  after  Jesus ;  I  saw 
the  house  of  St.  Veronica,  from  which  that  woman  stepped  forth 
and  gave  Jesus  a  handkerchief  to  wipe  his  brow,  —  the  handker- 
chief, with  the  Lord's  features  imprinted  on  it,  which  we  have  aU 
seen  exhibited  at  St.  Peter's  in  Eome;  and  I  looked  for  the  house 
of  the  Wandering  Jew,  or  at  least  for  the  spot  where  he  stood 
when  he  received  that  awful  mandate  of  fleshly  immortality.  In 
2*  c 


34  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

this  street  are  recognized  the  several  "  stations  "  that  Christ  made 
in  bearing  the  cross ;  we  were  shown  the  places  where  he  fell,  a 
stone  having  the  impress  of  his  hand,  a  pillar  broken  by  his  fall, 
and  also  the  stone  upon  which  Mary  sat  when  he  passed  by. 
Nothing  is  wanting  that  the  narrative  requires.  We  saw  also  in 
this  street  the  house  of  Dives,  and  the  stone  on  which  Lazarus 
sat  while  the  dogs  ministered  unto  him.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
must  be  in  a  dream,  in  thus  beholding  the  houses  and  places  of 
resort  of  the  characters  in  a,  parable ;  and  I  earned  my  dilemma 
to  a  Catholic  friend.  But  a  learned  father  assured  him  that  there 
was  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  house  of  Dives,  for  Christ  often 
took  his  parables  from  real  life.  After  that  I  went  again  to  look 
at  the  stone,  in  a  corner  of  a  building  amid  a  heap  of  refuse,  upon 
which  the  beggar  sat,  and  to  admire  the  pretty  stone  tracery  of 
the  windows  in  the  bouse  of  Dives. 

At  the  end  of  the  street,  in  a  new  Latin  nunnery,  are  the 
remains  of  the  house  of  Pilate,  which  are  supposed  to  be  authentic. 
The  present  establishment  is  called  the  convent  of  St.  Anne,  and 
the  community  is  very  fortunate,  at  this  late  day,  in  obtaining 
such  a  historic  site  for  itself.  We  had  the  privilege  of  seeing 
here  some  of  the  original  rock  that  formed  part  of  the  foundations 
of  Pilate's  house ;  and  there  are  three  stones  built  into  the  altar 
that  were  taken  from  the  pavement  of  Gabbatha,  upon  which 
Christ  walked.  These  are  recent  discoveries  ;  it  appears  probable 
that  the  real  pavement  of  Gabbatha  has  been  found,  since  Pilate's 
house  is  so  satisfactorily  identified.  Spanning  the  street  in  front 
of  this  convent  is  the  Ecce  Homo  arch,  upon  which  Pilate  showed 
Christ  to  the  populace.  The  ground  of  the  new  building  was 
until  recently  in  possession  of  the  Moslems,  who  would  not  sell 
it  for  a  less  price  than  seventy  thousand  francs ;  the  arch  they 
Avould  not  sell  at  aU ;  and  there  now  dwells,  in  a  small  chamber 
on  top  of  it,  a  Moslem  saint  and  hermit.  The  world  of  pilgrims 
flows  under  his  feet ;  he  looks  from  his  window  upon  a  daily 
procession  of  Christians,  who  traverse  the  Yia  Dolorosa,  having 
first  signified  their  submission  to  the  Moslem  yoke  in  the  Holy 
City  by  passing  under  this  arch  of  humiliation.  The  hermit, 
however,  has  the  grace  not  to  show  himself,  and  few  know  that 


JERUSALEM.  35 

he  sits  there,  in  the  holy  occupation  of  letting  his  hair  and  his 
nails  grow. 

From  the  house  of  the  Roman  procurator  we  went  to  the  citadel 
of  Sultan  Suleiman.  This  stands  close  hy  the  Jaffa  Gate,  and  is 
the  most  picturesque  object  in  all  the  circuit  of  the  walls,  and, 
although  the  citadel  is  of  modern  origin,  its  most  characteristic 
portion  lays  claim  to  great  antiquity.  The  massive  structure 
which  impresses  all  strangers  who  enter  by  the  Jaffa  Gate  is 
called  the  Tower  of  Hippicus,  and  also  the  Tower  of  David.  It 
is  identified  as  the  tower  which  Herod  built  and  Josephus  de- 
scribes, and  there  is  as  little  doubt  that  its  foundations  are  the 
same  that  David  laid  and  Solomon  strengthened.  There  are  no 
such  stones  in  any  other  part  of  the  walls  as  these  enormous 
bevelled  blocks  ;  they  sui'pass  those  in  the  Harem  wall,  at  what  is 
called  the  Jews'  Wailing  Place.  The  tower  stands  upon  the 
northwest  corner  of  the  old  wall  of  Zion,  and  being  the  point 
most  open  to  attack  it  was  most  strongly  built. 

It  seems  also  to  have  been  connected  with  the  palace  on  Zion 
which  David  built,  for  it  is  the  tradition  that  it  was  from  this 
tower  that  the  king  first  saw  Bathsheba,  the  wife  of  Uriah,  when 
"  it  came  to  pass  in  an  eventide  that  David  arose  from  off  his 
bed,  and  walked  upon  the  roof  of  the  king's  house  :  and  from 
the  roof  he  saw  a  woman  washing  herself ;  and  the  woman  was 
very  beautiful  to  look  upon."  On  the  other  side  of  the  city 
gate  we  now  look  do\vn  upon  the  Pool  of  Bathsheba,  in  which 
there  is  no  water,  and  we  are  informed  that  it  was  by  that  pool 
that  the  lovely  woman,  who  was  destined  to  be  the  mother  of 
Solomon,  sat  when  the  king  took  his  evening  walk.  Others  say 
that  she  sat  by  the  Pool  of  Gihon.  It  does  not  matter.  The 
subject  was  a  very  fruitful  one  for  the  artists  of  the  Renaissance, 
who  delighted  in  a  glowing  reproduction  of  the  biblical  stories, 
and  found  in  such  incidents  as  this  and  the  confusion  of  Susanna 
themes  in  which  the  morality  of  the  age  could  express  itself  with- 
out any  conflict  ^vith  the  religion  of  the  age.  It  is  a  comment 
not  so  much  upon  the  character  of  David  as  upon  the  morality 
of  the  time  in  which  he  lived,  that  although  he  repented,  and  no 
doubt  sincerely,  of  his  sin  v/hen  reproved  for  it,  his  repentance 


36  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

did  not  take  the  direction  of  self-denial ;  he  did  not  send  away 
Bathsheba. 

This  square  old  tower  is  interiorly  so  much  in  ruins  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  climb  to  its  parapet,  and  yet  it  still  has  a  guard- 
house attached  to  it,  and  is  kept  like  a  fortification  ;  a  few  rusty 
old  cannon,  under  the  charge  of  the  soldiers,  would  injure  only 
those  who  attempted  to  fire  them  ;  the  entire  premises  have  a 
tumble-down,  Turkish  aspect.  The  view  from  the  top  is  [the 
best  in  the  city  of  the  city  itself;  we  saw  also  from  it  the  hills  of 
Moab  and  a  bit  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Close  by  is  the  Armenian  quarter,  covering  a  large  part  of 
what  was  once  the  hill  of  Zion.  I  wish  it  were  the  Christian 
quarter,  for  it  is  the  oidy  part  of  the  to^vn  that  makes  any  pre- 
tension to  cleanliness,  and  it  has  more  than  any  other  the  aspect 
of  an  abode  of  peace  and  charity.  This  is  omng  to  its  being 
under  the  government  of  one  corporation,  for  the  Armenian  con- 
vent covers  nearly  the  entire  space  of  this  extensive  quarter.  The 
convent  is  a  singular,  irregular  mass  of  houses,  courts,  and  streets, 
the  latter  apparently  running  over  and  under  and  through  the 
houses ;  you  come  unexpectedly  upon  stairways,  you  traverse 
roofs,  you  enter  rooms  and  houses  on  the  roofs  of  other  houses, 
and  it  is  difficult  to  say  at  any  time  whether  you  are  on  the  earth 
or  in  the  air.  The  convent,  at  this  season,  is  filled  with  pilgrims, 
over  three  thousand  of  whom,  I  w^as  told,  were  lodged  here.  We 
came  upon  families  of  them  in  the  little  rooms  in  the  courts  and 
corridors,  or  upon  the  roofs,  pursuing  their  domestic  avocations 
as  if  they  were  at  home,  cooking,  mending,  sleeping,  a  boorish 
but  simple-minded  lot  of  peasants. 

The  church  is  a  large  and  very  interesting  specimen  of  re- 
ligious architecture  and  splendid,  barbaric  decoration.  In  the  ves- 
tibule hang  the  "  bells."  These  are  long  planks  of  a  sonorous 
wood,  wiiich  give  forth  a  ringing  sound  when  struck  with  a  club. 
As  they  are  of  different  sizes,  you  get  some  variation  of  tone,  and 
they  can  be  heard  far  enough  to  call  the  inmates  of  the  convent 
to  worship.  The  interior  walls  are  lined  with  ancient  blue  tiles 
to  a  considerable  height,  and  above  them  are  nide  and  inartistic 
sacred  pictures.      There  is  in  the  chui'ch  much   curious  inlaid 


JERUSALEM.  37 

work  of  raother-of-pearl  and  olive-wood,  especially  about  the 
doors  of  the  chapels,  and  one  side  shines  with  the  pearl  as  if  it 
were  encrusted  with  silver.  Ostrich  eggs  are  strung  about  in 
profusion,  with  hooks  attached  for  hanging  lamps. 

The  first  day  of  our  visit  to  this  church,  in  one  of  the  door- 
ways of  what  seemed  to  be  a  side  chapel,  and  which  was  thickly 
encrusted  with  mother-of-pearl,  stood  the  venerable  bishop,  in  a 
light  rose-colored  robe  and  a  pointed  hood,  with  a  cross  in  his 
hand,  preaching  to  the  pilgrims,  who  knelt  on  the  pavement  be- 
fore him,  talking  in  a  familiar  manner,  and,  our  guide  said,  with 
great  plainness  of  speech.  The  Armenian  clergy  are  celebrated 
for  the  splendor  of  their  vestments,  and  I  could  not  but  think 
that  this  rose-colored  bishop,  in  his  shining  framework,  must 
seem  like  a  being  of  another  sphere  to  the  boors  before  him.  He 
almost  imposed  upon  us. 

These  pilgrims  appeared  to  be  of  the  poorest  agricultural  class 
of  laborers,  and  their  costume  is  uncouth  beyond  description.  In 
a  side  chapel,  where  we  saw  tiles  on  the  walls  that  excited  our 
envy,  —  the  quaintest  figures  and  illustrations  of  sacred  subjects, 
—  the  clerks  were  taking  the  names  of  pilgrims  just  arrived,  who 
kneeled  before  them  and  paid  a  Napoleon  each  for  their  lodging 
in  the  convent,  as  long  as  they  should  choose  to  stay.  In  this 
chapel  were  the  shoes  of  the  pilgrims  who  had  gone  into  the 
church,  a  motley  collection  of  foot-gear,  covering  half  the  floor : 
leather  and  straw,  square  shoes  as  broad  as  long,  round  shoes, 
pointed  shoes,  old  shoes,  patched  shoes,  shoes  with  the  toes  gone, 
a  pathetic  gathering  that  told  of  poverty  and  weary  travel  —  and 
big  feet.  These  shoes  were  things  to  muse  on,  for  each  pair, 
made  maybe  in  a  difi'erent  century,  seemed  to  have  a  character  of 
its  own,  as  it  stood  there  awaiting  the  owner.  People  often  make 
reflections  upon  a  pair  of  shoes  ;  literature  is  full  of  them.  Poets 
have  celebrated  many  a  pretty  shoe,  —  a  queen's  slipper,  it  may 
be,  or  the  hobnail  brogan  of  a  peasant,  or,  oftener,  the  tiny  s^oes 
of  a  child ;  but  it  is  seldom  that  one  has  an  opportunity  for  such 
comprehensive  moralizing  as  was  here  given.  If  we  ever  regretted 
the  lack  of  a  poet  in  our  party,  it  was  now. 

We  walked  along  the  Armenian  walls,  past  the  lepers'  quarter, 


38  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

and  outside  the  walls,  through  the  Gate  of  Zion,  or  the  Gate  of 
the  Prophet  David  as  it  is  also  called,  and  came  upon  a  continua- 
tion of  the  plateau  of  the  hill  of  Zion,  which  is  now  covered  with 
cemeteries,  and  is  the  site  of  the  house  of  Caiaphas  and  of  the 
tomb  of  David  and  those  Kings  of  Jerusalem  who  were  consid- 
ered by  the  people  worthy  of  sepulture  here ;  for  the  Jews  seem 
to  have  brought  from  Egypt  the  notion  of  refusing  royal  burial  to 
their  bad  kings,  and  they  had  very  few  respectable  ones. 

The  house  of  Caiaphas  the  high-priest  had  suffered  a  recent 
tumble-down,  and  was  in  such  a  state  of  ruin  that  we  could  with 
difficulty  enter  it  or  recognize  any  likeness  of  a  house.  On  the 
premises  is  an  Armenian  chapel ;  in  it  we  were  shown  the  prison 
in  which  Christ  was  confined,  also  the  stone  door  of  the  sepul- 
chre, which  the  Latins  say  the  Armenians  stole.  But  the  most 
remarkable  object  here  is  the  little  marble  column  (having  carved 
on  it  a  figure  of  Christ  bound  to  a  pillar)  upon  which  the  cock 
stood  and  crowed  when  Peter  denied  his  Lord.  There  are  some 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  believing  this  now,  but  they  will  lessen 
as  the  column  gets  age. 

Outside  this  gate  lie  the  desolate  fields  strewn  with  the  brown 
tombstones  of  the  Greeks  and  Armenians,  a  melancholy  spectacle. 
Each  sect  has  its  own  cemeterj%  and  the  dead  sleep  peaceably 
enough,  but  the  living  who  bury  them  frequently  quarrel.  I  saw 
one  day  a  funeral  procession  halted  outside  the  walls ;  for  some 
reason  the  Greek  priest  had  refused  the  dead  burial  in  the  grave 
dug  for  him  in  the  cemetery ;  the  bier  was  dumped  on  the  slope 
beside  the  road,  and  half  overturned ;  the  friends  were  sitting  on 
the  ground,  wrangling.  The  man  had  been  dead  three  days,  and 
the  coffin  had  been  by  the  roadside  in  this  place  since  the  day  be- 
fore. This  was  in  the  morning ;  towards  night  I  saw  the  same 
crowd  there,  but  a  Turkish  official  appeared  and  ordered  the 
Greeks  to  bury  their  dead  somewhere,  and  that  without  delay ;  to 
bury  it  for  the  sake  of  the  public  health,  and  quan'el  about  the 
grave  afterwards  if  they  must.  A  crowd  collected,  joining  with 
fiery  gesticulation  and  clamor  in  the  dispute,  the  shrill  voices  of 
women  being  heard  above  all ;  but  at  last,  four  men  roughly 
shouldered  the  box,  handling  it  as  if  it  contained  merchandise, 
and  trotted  off  with  it. 


JERUSALEM.  39 

As  we  walked  over  this  pathless,  barren  necropolis,  strewn,  as 
it  were,  hap-hazard  with  shapeless,  broken,  and  leaning  head- 
stones, it  was  impossible  to  connect  with  it  any  sentiment  of  affec- 
tion or  piety.  It  spoke,  like  everything  else  about  here,  of  mor- 
tality, and  seemed  only  a  part  of  that  historical  Jerusalem  which 
is  dead  and  buried,  in  which  no  living  person  can  have  anything 
more  than  an  archgeological  interest.  It  was,  then,  with  some- 
thing like  a  shock  that  we  heard  Demetrius,  our  guide,  say,  point- 
ing to  a  rude  stone,  — 

"  That  is  the  grave  of  my  mother  ! " 

Demetrius  was  a  handsome  Greek  boy,  of  a  beautiful  type 
which  has  almost  disappeared  from  Greece  itself,  and  as  clever  a 
lad  as  ever  spoke  all  languages  and  accepted  all  religions,  without 
yielding  too  much  to  any  one.  He  had  been  well  educated  in  the 
English  school,  and  his  education  had  failed  to  put  any  faith  in 
place  of  the  superstition  it  had  destroyed.  The  boy  seemed  to  be 
numerously  if  not  well  connected  in  the  city ;  he  was  always  ex- 
changing a  glance  and  a  smile  with  some  pretty,  dark-eyed  Greek 
girl  whom  we  met  in  the  way,  and  when  I  said,  "  Demetrius,  who 
was  that?"  he  always  answered,  "That  is  my  cousin." 

The  boy  was  so  intelligent,  so  vivacious,  and  full  of  the  spirit 
of  adventure,  —  begging  me  a  dozen  times  a  day  to  take  him  with 
me  anywhere  in  the  world,  —  and  so  modern,  that  he  had  not  till 
this  moment  seemed  to  belong  to  Jerusalem,  nor  to  have  any  part 
in  its  decay.  This  chance  discoveiy  of  his  intimate  relation  to 
this  necropolis  gave,  if  I  may  say  so,  a  living  interest  to  it,  and  to 
all  the  old  burying-grounds  about  the  city,  some  of  which  link  the 
present  with  the  remote  past  by  an  uninterrupted  succession  of 
interments  for  nearly  three  thousand  years. 

Just  beyond  this  expanse,  or  rather  in  part  of  it,  is  a  small  plot 
of  ground  sun-ounded  by  high  whitewashed  walls,  the  entrance  to 
which  is  secured  by  a  heavy  door.  This  is  the  American  ceme- 
tery ;  and  the  stout  door  and  thick  wall  are,  I  suppose,  necessary 
to  secure  its  graves  from  Moslem  insult.  It  seems  not  to  be 
visited  often,  for  it  was  Avith  difficulty  that  we  could  turn  the 
huge  key  in  the  rusty  lock.  There  are  some  half-dozen  graves 
mthin ;  the  graves  are  grass-grown  and  flower-sprinkled,  and  the 


40  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

whole  area  is  a  tangle  of  unrestrained  weeds  and  grass.  The 
high  wall  cuts  off  all  view,  but  we  did  not  for  the  time  miss  it, 
rather  liking  for  the  moment  to  be  secured  from  the  sight  of  the 
awful  desolation,  and  to  muse  upon  the  strange  fortune  that  had 
draAvn  to  be  buried  here  upon  Mount  Zion,  as  a  holy  resting- 
place  for  them,  people  alien  in  race,  language,  and  customs  to  the 
house  of  David,  and  removed  from  it  by  such  spaces  of  time  and 
distance  ;  people  to  whom  the  worship  performed  by  David,  if  he 
could  renew  it  in  person  on  Zion,  would  be  as  distasteful  as  is 
that  of  the  Jews  in  yonder  synagogue. 

Only  a  short  distance  from  this  we  came  to  the  mosque  which 
contains  the  tomb  of  David  and  probably  of  Solomon  and  other 
Kings  of  Judah.  No  historical  monument  in  or  about  Jerusalem 
is  better  authenticated  than  this.  Although  now  for  many  cen- 
turies the  Moslems  have  had  possession  of  it  and  forbidden  access 
to  it,  there  is  a  tolerably  connected  tradition  of  its  possession.  It 
was  tmce  opened  and  relieved  of  the  enormous  treasure  in  gold 
and  silver  which  Solomon  deposited  in  it ;  once  by  Hyrcanus 
Maccabaeus,  who  took  what  he  needed,  and  again  by  Herod,  who 
found  very  little.  There  are  all  sorts  of  stories  told  about  the 
splendor  of  this  tomb  and  the  state  with  which  the  Moslems  sur- 
round it.  But  they  envelop  it  in  so  much  mystery  that  no  one 
can  know  the  truth.  It  is  probable  that  the  few  who  suppose 
they  have  seen  it  have  seen  only  a  sort  of  cenotaph  which  is 
above  the  real  tomb  in  the  rock  below.  The  room  which  has 
been  seen  is  embellished  with  some  display  of  richness  in  shawls 
and  hangings  of  gold  embroidery,  and  contains  a  sarcophagus  of 
rough  stone,  and  lights  are  always  burning  there.  If  the  royal 
tombs  are  in  this  place,  they  are  doubtless  in  the  cave  below. 

Over  this  spot  was  built  a  church  by  the  early  Christians ;  and 
it  is  a  tradition  that  in  this  building  was  the  Coenaculum.  This 
site  may  very  likely  be  that  of  the  building  where  the  Last  Sup- 
per was  laid,  and  it  may  be  that  St.  Stephen  suffered  martyi'dora 
here,  and  that  the  Virgin  died  here ;  the  building  may  be  as  old 
as  the  fourth  century,  but  the  chances  of  any  building  standing  so 
long  in  this  repeatedly  destroyed  city  are  not  good.  There  is  a 
little  house  north  of  this  mosque  in  which  the  Virgin  spent  the 


JERUSALEM.  41 

last  years  of  her  life  ;  if  she  did,  she  must  have  lived  to  be  over  a 
thousand  years  old. 

On  the  very  brow  of  the  hill,  and  overlooking  the  lower  pool 
of  Gihon,  is  the  English  school,  with  its  pretty  garden  and  its 
cemetery.  We  saw  there  some  excavations,  by  which  the  bed- 
rock had  been  laid  bare,  disclosing  some  stone  steps  cut  in  it. 
Search  is  being  made  here  for  the  Seat  of  Solomon,  but  it  does 
not  seem  to  me  a  vital  matter,  for  I  suppose  he  sat  down  all  over 
this  hUl,  which  was  covered  with  his  palaces  and  harems  and 
other  buildings  of  pleasiu*e,  built  of  stones  that  "  were  of  great 
value,  such  as  are  dug  out  of  the  earth  for  the  ornaments  of  tem- 
ples and  to  make  fine  prospects  in  royal  palaces,  and  which  make 
the  mines  whence  they  are  dug  famous."  Solomon's  palace  was 
constructed  entirely  of  white  stone,  and  cedar-wood,  and  gold  and 
silver ;  in  it  "  were  very  long  cloisters,  and  those  situate  in  an 
agreeable  place  in  the  palace,  and  among  them  a  most  glorious 
dining-room  for  feastings  and  compotations  "  ;  indeed,  Josephus 
finds  it  difficult  to  reckon  up  the  variety  and  the  magnitude  of  the 
royal  apartments,  —  "  how  many  that  were  subterraneous  and  in- 
visible, the  curiosity  of  those  that  enjoyed  the  fresh  air,  and  the 
gi'oves  for  the  most  delightful  prospect,  for  avoiding  the  heat,  and 
covering  their  bodies."  If  this  most  luxurious  of  monarchs  in- 
troduced here  all  the  styles  of  architecture  which  would  repre- 
sent the  nationality  of  his  wives,  as  he  built  temples  to  suit  their 
different  religions,  the  hill  of  Zion  must  have  resembled,  on  a 
small  scale,  the  Munich  of  King  Ludwig  I. 

Opposite  the  English  school,  across  the  Valley  of  Hinnom,  is  a 
long  block  of  modern  buildings  .which  is  one  of  the  most  conspic- 
uous objects  outside  the  city.  It  was  buUt  by  another  rich  Jew, 
Sir  Moses  Montefiore,  of  London,  and  contains  tenements  for 
poor  Jews.  Sir  Moses  is  probably  as  rich  as  Solomon  was  in  his 
own  right,  and  he  makes  a  most  charitable  use  of  his  money ;  but 
I  do  not  suppose  that  if  he  had  at  his  command  the  public  wealth 
that  Solomon  had,  who  made  silver  as  plentiful  as  stones  in  the 
streets  of  Jerusalem,  he  could  materially  alleviate  the  lazy  indi- 
gence of  the  Jewish  exiles  here.  The  aged  philanthi'opist  made  a 
journey  hither  in  the  summer  of  1875,  to  ascertain  for  himself  the 


42  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

condition  of  the  Jews.  I  believe  lie  has  a  hope  of  establishing 
manufactories  in  which  they  can  support  themselves ;  but  the 
minds  of  the  Jews  who  are  already  restored  are  not  set  upon  any 
sort  of  industry.  It  seems  to  me  that  they  could  be  maintained 
much  more  cheaply  if  they  were  transported  to  a  less  barren 
land. 

We  made,  one  day,  an  exploration  of  the  Jews'  quarter,  which 
enjoys  the  reputation  of  being  more  filthy  than  the  Christian. 
The  approach  to  it  is  do^vTi  a  gutter  which  has  the  sounding  name 
of  the  Street  of  David ;  it  was  bad  enough,  but  when  we  entered 
the  Jews'  part  of  the  city  we  found  ourselves  in  lanes  and  gutters 
of  incomparable  unpleasantness,  and  almost  impassable,  with 
nothing  whatever  in  them  interesting  or  picturesque,  except  the 
inhabitants.  We  had  a  curiosity  to  see  if  there  were  here  any 
real  Jews  of  the  type  that  inhabited  the  city  in  the  time  of  our 
Lord,  and  we  saw  many  with  fair  skin  and  light  hair,  with  straight 
nose  and  regular  features.  The  persons  whom  we  are  accustomed 
to  call  Jews,  and  who  were  found  dispersed  about  Europe  at  a 
very  early  period  of  modern  history,  have  the  Assyrian  features, 
the  hook  nose,  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  not  at  all  the  faces  of  the 
fair-haired  race  from  which  our  Saviour  is  supposed  to  have 
sprung.  The  kingdom  of  Israel,  which  contained  the  ten  tribes, 
was  gobbled  up  by  the  Assyrians  about  the  time  Rome  was 
founded,  and  from  that  date  these  tribes  do  not  appear  historically. 
They  may  have  entirely  amalgamated  with  their  conquerors,  and 
the  modified  race  subsequently  have  passed  into  Europe ;  for  the 
Jews  claim  to  have  been  in  Europe  before  the  destruction  of 
Jerusalem  by  Titus,  in  which  nearly  all  the  people  of  the  kingdom 
of  Judah  perished. 

Some  scholars,  who  have  investigated  the  problem  offered  by 
the  two  types  above  mentioned,  think  that  the  Jew  as  we  know 
him  in  Europe  and  America  is  not  the  direct  descendant  of  the 
Jews  of  Jerusalem  of  the  time  of  Herod,  and  that  the  true  offspring 
of  the  latter  is  the  person  of  the  light  hair  and  straight  nose  who 
is  occasionally  to  be  found  in  Jerusalem  to-day.  Until  this  eth- 
nological problem  is  settled,  I  shall  most  certainly  withhold  my 
feeble  contributions  for  the  "  restoration  "  of  the  persons  at  present 


JERUSALEM.  43 

doing  business  under  the  name  of  Jews  among  the  Western  na- 
tions. 

But  we  saw  another  type  of  Jew,  or  rather  another  variety,  in 
this  quarter.  He  called  himself  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  and  is, 
I  think,  the  most  unpleasant  human  being  I  have  ever  encoun- 
tered. Every  man  who  supposes  himself  of  this  tribe  Avears  a 
dark,  corkscrew,  stringy  curl  hanging  down  each  side  of  his  face, 
and  the  appearance  of  nasty  effeminacy  which  this  gives  cannot 
be  described.  The  tribe  of  Benjamin  does  not  figure  well  in  sa- 
cred history,  —  it  was  left-handed ;  it  was  pretty  much  extermi- 
nated by  the  other  tribes  once  for  an  awful  crime ;  it  was  held 
from  going  into  the  settled  idolatry  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel  only 
by  its  contiguity  to  Judah,  —  but  it  was  better  than  its  descend- 
ants, if  these  are  its  descendants. 

More  than  half  of  the  eight  thousand  Jews  in  Jerusalem  speak 
Spanish  as  their  native  tongue,  and  are  the  offspring  of  those  ex- 
pelled from  Spain  by  Ferdinand.  Now  and  then,  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  was  Spanish  or  Arabic,  we  saw  a  good  face,  a  noble 
countenance,  a  fine  Oriental  and  venerable  type,  and  occasionally, 
looking  from  a  window,  a  Jewish  beauty  ;  but  the  most  whom 
we  met  were  debased,  mis-begotten,  the  remnants  of  sin,  squalor, 
and  bad  living. 

We  went  into  two  of  the  best  synagogues,  —  one  new,  with  a 
conspicuous  gi-een  dome.  They  are  not  fine ;  on  the  contrary, 
they  are  slatternly  places  and  very  ill-kept.  On  the  benches  near 
the  windows  sat  squalid  men  and  boys  reading,  the  lattei-,  no 
doubt,  students  of  the  law ;  all  the  passages,  stairs,  and  by-rooms 
were  dirty  and  disorderly,  as  if  it  were  always  Monday  morning 
there,  but  never  washing-day ;  rags  and  heaps  of  ancient  gar- 
ments were  strewn  about ;  and  occasionally  we  nearly  stumbled 
over  a  Jew,  indistinguishable  from  a  bundle  of  old  clothes,  and 
asleep  on  the  floor.  Even  the  sanctuary  is  full  of  unkempt  peo- 
ple, and  of  the  evidences  of  the  squalor  of  the  quarter.  If  this 
is  a  specimen  of  the  restoration  of  the  Jews,  they  had  better  not 
be  restored  any  more. 

The  thing  to  do  (if  the  worldliness  of  the  expression  vdW  be 
pardoned)  on  Friday  is  to  go  and  see  the  Jews  wail,  as  in  Con- 


44  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

stantinople  it  is  to  see  the  Sultan  go  to  prayer,  and  in  Cairo  to 
hear  the  darwdshes  howl.  The  performance,  being  an  open-air 
one,  is  sometimes  prevented  by  rain  or  snow,  but  otherwise  it  has 
not  failed  for  many  centuries.  This  ancient  practice  is  probably 
not  what  it  once  was,  having  in  our  modern  days,  by  becoming  a 
sort  of  fashion,  lost  its  spontaneity  ;  it  will,  however,  doubtless 
be  long  kept  up,  as  everything  of  this  sort  endures  in  the  East, 
even  if  it  should  become  necessary  to  hire  people  to  wail. 

The  Friday  morning  of  the  day  chosen  for  our  visit  to  the  wail- 
ing place  was  rainy,  following  a  rainy  night.  The  rough-paved 
open  alleys  were  gutters  of  mud,  the  streets  under  arches  (for  there 
are  shops  in  subterranean  constructions  and  old  vaulted  passages) 
were  damper  and  darker  than  usual ;  the  whole  city,  with  its  nar- 
roAv  lanes,  and  thick  walls,  and  no  sewers,  was  clammy  and  un- 
comfortable. We  loitered  for  a  time  in  the  dark  and  grave-like 
gold  bazaars,  where  there  is  but  a  poor  display  of  attractions.  Pil- 
grims from  all  lands  were  sopping  about  in  the  streets ;  conspicu- 
ous among  them  were  Persians  wearing  high,  conical  frieze  hats, 
and  short-legged,  big-calfed  Russian  peasant  women,  —  animated 
meal-bags. 

We  walked  across  to  the  Zion  Gate,  and  mounting  the  city  wall 
there  —  an  uneven  and  somewhat  broken,  but  sightly  promenade 
—  followed  it  round  to  its  junction  with  the  Temple  waU,  and  to 
Robinson's  Arch.  Underneath  the  wall  by  Zion  Grate  dwell,  in 
low  stone  huts  and  burrows,  a  considerable  number  of  lepers,  who 
foi'm  a  horrid  community  by  themselves.  These  poor  creatures, 
with  toeless  feet  and  fingerless  hands,  came  out  of  their  dens  and 
assailed  us  Avith  piteous  cries  for  charity.  What  could  be  done  ? 
It  was  impossible  to  give  to  all.  The  little  we  thi'cw  them  they 
fought  for,  and  the  unsuccessful  folloAved  us  with  whetted  eager- 
ness. We  could  do  nothing  but  flee,  and  we  climbed  the  wall 
and  ran  down  it,  leaving  Demetrius  behind  as  a  rear-guard.  I 
should  have  had  more  pity  for  them  if  they  had  not  exhibited  so 
much  maliciousness.  They  knew  their  power,  and  brought  all 
their  loathsomeness  after  us,  thinking  that  we  would  be  forced  to 
buy  their  retreat.  Two  hideous  old  women  followed  us  a  long 
distance,  and  when  they  became  convinced  that  further  howling 


JERUSALEM.  45 

and  whining  would  be  fruitless,  they  suddenly  changed  tone  and 
cursed  us  with  healthful  vigor ;  having  cursed  us,  they  hobbled 
home  to  roost. 

This  part  of  the  wall  crosses  what  was  once  the  Tyrophoean 
Valley,  which  is  now  pretty  much  filled  up  ;  it  ran  between  Mount 
Moriah,  on  which  the  Temple  stood,  and  Mount  Zion.  It  was 
spanned  in  ancient  times  by  a  bridge  some  three  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  long,  resting  on  stone  arches  whose  piers  must  have  been  from 
one  hundred  to  two  hundred  feet  in  height ;  this  connected  the 
Temple  platform  with  the  top  of  the  steep  side  of  Zion.  It  was 
on  the  Temple  end  of  this  bridge  that  Titus  stood  and  held  parley 
with  the  Jews  who  refused  to  surrender  Zion  after  the  loss  of 
Moriah. 

The  exact  locality  of  this  interesting  bridge  was  discovered  by 
Dr.  Robinson.  Just  north  of  the  southwest  corner  of  the  Harem 
wall  (that  is,  the  Temple  or  Mount  Moriah  wall)  he  noticed  three 
courses  of  huge  projecting  stones,  which  upon  careful  inspection 
proved  to  be  the  segment  of  an  arch.  The  spring  of  the  arch  is 
so  plainly  to  be  seen  now  that  it  is  a  wonder  it  remained  so  long 
unknown. 

The  Wailing  Place  of  the  Jews  is  on  the  west  side  of  the  Tem- 
ple enclosure,  a  little  to  the  north  of  this  arch ;  it  is  in  a  long, 
narrow  court  formed  by  the  walls  of  modern  houses  and  the  huge 
blocks  of  stone  of  this  part  of  the  original  wall.  These  stones  are 
no  doubt  as  old  as  Solomon's  Temple,  and  the  Jews  can  here 
touch  the  very  walls  of  the  platform  of  that  sacred  edifice. 

Every  Friday  a  reihnant  of  the  children  of  Israel  comes  here  to 
weep  and  wail.  They  bring  their  Scriptures,  and  leaning  against 
the  honey-combed  stone,  facing  it,  read  the  Lamentations  and  the 
Psalms,  in  a  wailing  voice,  and  occasionally  cry  aloud  in  a  chorus 
of  lamentation,  weeping,  blowing  their  long  noses  with  blue  cot- 
ton handkerchiefs,  and  kissing  the  stones.  We  were  told  that  the 
smoothness  of  the  stones  in  spots  was  owing  to  centuries  of  oscu- 
lation. The  men  stand  together  at  one  part  of  the  waU  and  the 
women  at  another.  There  were  not  more  than  twenty  Jews  pres- 
ent as  actors  in  the  solemn  ceremony  the  day  we  visited  the  spot, 
and  they  did  not  wail  much,  merely  reading  the  Scriptures  in  a 


46  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

mumbling  voice  and  swaying  their  bodies  backward  and  forward. 
Still  they  formed  picturesque  and  even  pathetic  groups  :  venerable 
old  men  with  long  white  beards  and  hooked  noses,  clad  in  rags 
and  shreds  and  patches  in  all  degrees  of  decadence ;  lank  creatures 
of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin  with  the  corkscrew  curls ;  and  skinny 
old  women  shaking  with  weeping,  real  or  assumed. 

Very  likely  these  wallers  were  as  poor  and  wretched  as  they 
appeared  to  be,  and  their  tears  were  the  natural  outcome  of  their 
grief  over  the  ruin  of  the  Temple  nearly  two  thousand  years  ago. 
I  should  be  the  last  one  to  doubt  their  enjoyment  of  this  weekly 
bitter  misery.  But  the  demonstration  had  somewhat  the  appear- 
ance of  a  set  and  show  performance ;  while  it  was  going  on,  a 
shrewd  Israelite  went  about  with  a  box  to  collect  mites  from  the 
spectators.  There  were  many  more  travellers  there  to  see  the 
wailing  than  there  were  Jews  to  wail.  This  also  lent  an  unfavor- 
able aspect  to  the  scene.  I  myself  felt  that  if  this  were  genuine, 
I  had  no  business  to  be  there  with  my  undisguised  curiosity,  and 
if  it  were  not  genuine,  it  was  the  poorest  spectacle  that  Jerusalem 
offers  to  the  tourist.  Cook's  party  was  there  in  force,  this  being 
one  of  the  things  promised  in  the  contract ;  and  I  soon  found 
myself  more  interested  in  Cook's  pilgrims  than  in  the  others. 

The  Scripture  read  and  wailed  this  day  was  the  fifty-first  Psalm 
of  David.  If  you  turn  to  it  (you  may  have  already  discovered 
that  the  covert  purpose  of  these  desultory  notes  is  to  compel  you 
to  read  your  Bible),  you  will  see  that  it  expresses  David's  peni- 
tence in  the  matter  of  Bathsheba. 


III. 

HOLT  PLACES  OF  THE  HOLY  CITY. 


THE  sojourner  in  Jerusalem  falls  into  the  tabit  of  dropping  in 
at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  nearly  every  afternoon. 
It  is  the  centre  of  attraction.  There  the  pilgrims  all  resort ; 
there  one  sees,  in  a  day,  many  races,  and  the  costumes  of  strange 
and  distant  peoples  ;  there  one  sees  the  various  worship  of  the 
many  Christian  sects.  There  are  always  processions  making  the 
round  of  the  holy  places,  sect  following  sect,  with  swinging  cen- 
sers, each  fumigating  away  the  effect  of  its  predecessor. 

The  central  body  of  the  church,  answering  to  the  nave,  as  the 
rotunda,  which  contains  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  answers  to  choir  and 
apse,  is  the  Greek  chapel,  and  the  most  magnificent  in  the  build- 
ing. The  portion  of  the  church  set  apart  to  the  Latins,  opening 
also  out  of  the  rotunda,  is  merely  a  small  chapel.  The  Arme- 
nians have  still  more  contracted  accommodations,  and  the  poor 
Copts  enjoy  a  mere  closet,  but  it  is  in  a  sacred  spot,  being  at- 
tached to  the  west  end  of  the  sepulchre  itself. 

On  the  western  side  of  the  rotunda  we  passed  through  the  bare 
and  apparently  uncared-for  chapel  of  the  Syrians,  and  entered, 
through  a  low  door,  into  a  small  grotto  he^vn  in  the  rock. 
Lighted  candles  revealed  to  us  some  tombs,  little  pits  cut  in  the 
rock,  two  in  the  side- wall  and  two  in  the  floor.  We  had  a  guide 
who  knew  every  sacred  spot  in  the  city,  a  man  who  never  failed  to 
satisfy  the  curiosity  of  the  most  credulous  tourist. 

"  Whose  tombs  are  these  ?  "  we  asked. 

"  That  is  the  tomb  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  that  beside  it 
is  the  tomb  of  Nicodemus." 


48  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know?  You  ask  me  how  I  know.  Have  n't  I 
always  lived  in  Jerusalem  ?     I  was  born  hei*e." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  can  tell  us,  if  this  tomb  belonged  to 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  this  to  Nicodemus,  whose  is  this  third 
one?" 

"  0  yes,  that  other,"  replied  the  guide,  with  only  a  moment's 
paralysis  of  his  invention,  "  that  is  the  tomb  of  Arimathea  him- 
self." 

One  afternoon  at  four,  service  was  going  on  in  the  Greek 
chapel,  which  shone  with  silver  and  blazed  with  tapers,  and  was 
crowded  with  pilgrims,  principally  Russians  of  both  sexes,  many 
of  whom  had  made  a  painful  pilgiimage  of  more  than  two  thou- 
sand miles  on  foot  merely  to  prostrate  themselves  in  this  revered 
place.  A  Russian  bishop  and  a  priest,  in  the  resplendent  robes 
of  their  office,  were  intoning  the  service  responsively.  In  the 
very  centre  of  this  chapel  is  a  round  hole  covered  with  a  grating, 
and  tapers  are  generally  burning  about  it.  All  the  pilgrims 
kneeled  there,  and  kissed  the  grating  and  adored  the  hole.  I  had 
the  curiosity  to  push  my  way  through  the  throng  in  order  to  see 
the  object  of  devotion,  but  I  could  discover  nothing.  It  is,  how- 
ever, an  important  spot :  it  is  the  centre  of  the  earth  ;  though  why 
Christians  should  worship  the  centre  of  the  earth  I  do  not  know. 
The  Armenians  have  in  their  chapel  also  a  spot  that  they  say  is 
the  real  centre ;  that  makes  three  that  we  know  of,  for  everybody 
understands  that  there  is  one  in  the  Kaaba  at  Mecca. 

We  sat  down  upon  a  stone  bench  near  the  entrance  of  the 
chapel,  where  we  could  observe  the  passing  streams  of  people,  and 
were  greatly  diverted  by  a  blithe  and  comical  beggar  who  had 
stationed  himself  on  the  pavement  there  to  intercept  the  Greek 
charity  of  the  worshippers  when  they  passed  into  the  rotunda.  He 
was  a  diminutive  man  \vith  distorted  limbs ;  he  wore  a  peaked 
red  cap,  and  (bagged  himself  over  the  pavement,  or  rather 
skipped  and  flopped  about  on  it  like  a  devil-fish  on  land.  Never 
was  seen  in  a  beggar  such  Aavacity  and  imperturbable  good-humor, 
with  so  much  deviltry  in  his  dancing  eyes. 

As  we  appeared  to  him  to  occupy  a  neutral  position  as  to  him  and 


HOLY    PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY.  49 

his  victims,  he  soon  took  us  into  his  confidence  and  let  us  see  his 
mode  of  operations.  He  said  (to  our  guide)  that  he  was  a  Greek 
from  Damascus,  —  0  yes,  a  Christian,  a  pilgrim,  who  always 
came  down  here  at  this  season,  which  was  his  hai-vest-time.  He 
hoped  (with  a  wicked  wink)  that  his  devotion  would  be  rewarded.' 

It  was  very  entertaining  to  see  him  watch  the  people  coming 
out,  and  select  his  victims,  whom  he  would  indicate  to  us  by  a 
motion  of  his  head  as  he  flopped  towards  them.  He  appeared  to 
rely  more  upon  the  poor  and  simple  than  upon  the  rich,  and  he 
was  more  successful  with  the  former.  But  he  rarely,  such  was 
his  insight,  made  a  mistake.  Whoever  gave  him  anything  he 
thanked  with  the  utmost  empressement  of  manner ;  then  he  crossed 
himself,  and  turned  around  and  winked  at  us,  his  confederates. 
When  an  elegantly  dressed  lady  dropped  the  smallest  of  copper 
coins  into  his  cap,  he  let  us  know  his  opinion  of  her  by  a  signifi- 
cant gestiire  and  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  But  no  matter  from 
Avhom  he  received  it,  whenever  he  added  a  penny  to  his  store  the 
rascal  chirped  and  laughed  and  caressed  himself.  He  was  in  the 
Avay  of  being  trodden  under  foot  by  the  crowd ;  but  his  agility 
was  extraordinary,  and  I  should  not  have  been  surprised  at  any 
moment  if  he  had  vaulted  over  the  heads  of  the  throng  and  dis- 
appeared. If  he  failed  to  attract  the  attention  of  an  eligible 
pilgi'im,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  give  the  skirt  of  his  elect  a  jerk, 
for  which  rudeness  he  would  at  once  apologize  with  an  inde- 
scribable grimace  and  a  joke. 

When  the  crowd  had  passed,  he  slid  himself  into  a  comer,  by  a 
motion  such  as  that  with  which  a  fish  suddenly  darts  to  one  side, 
and  set  himself  to  empty  his  pocket  into  his  cap  and  count  his 
plunder,  tossing  the  pieces  into  the  air  and  catching  them  with  a 
chuckle,  crossing  himself  and  hugging  himself  by  turns.  He  had 
four  francs  and  a  half.  When  he  had  finished  counting  his  money 
he  put  it  in  a  bag,  and  for  a  moment  his  face  assumed  a  grave  and 
business-like  expression.  We  thought  he  would  depart  without 
demanding  anything  of  us.  But  we  were  mistaken;  he  had 
something  in  view  that  he  no  doubt  felt  would  insure  him  a  liberal 
backsheesh.  Wriggling  near  to  us,  he  set  his  face  into  an  expres- 
sion of  demure  humility,  held  out  his  cap,  and  said,  in  English, 
3  '  D 


50  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

each  word  falling  from  his  lips  as  distinctly  and  unnaturally  as 
if  he  had  been  a  wooden  articulating  machine,  — 

"  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  / 
will  give  you  rest." 

The  rascal's  impiety  lessened  the  charity  which  our  intimacy 
with  him  had  intended,  but  he  appeared  entirely  content,  chirped, 
saluted  wiih  gravity,  and,  with  a  flop,  was  gone  from  our  sight. 

At  the  moment,  a  procession  of  Franciscan  monks  swept  by, 
chanting  in  rich  bass  voices,  and  followed,  as  usual,  by  Latin  pil- 
grims, making  the  daily  round  of  the  holy  places ;  after  they  had 
disappeared  we  could  stiU  hear  their  voices  and  catch  now  and 
again  the  glimmer  of  their  tapers  in  the  vast  dark  spaces. 

Opposite  the  place  where  we  were  sitting  is  the  Chapel  of  the 
Apparition,  a  room  not  much  more  than  twenty  feet  square ;  it  is 
the  Latin  chapel,  and  besides  its  contiguity  to  the  sepulchre  has 
some  specialties  of  its  own.  The  chapel  is  probably  eight  hun- 
dred years  old.  In  the  centre  of  the  pavement  is  the  spot  upon 
which  our  Lord  stood  when  he  appeared  to  the  Virgin  after  the 
resuiTCction  ;  near  it  a  slab  marks  the  place  where  the  three 
crosses  were  laid  after  they  were  dug  up  by  Helena,  and  where 
the  one  on  which  our  Lord  was  crucified  was  identified  by  the 
miracle  that  it  worked  in  healing  a  sick  man.  South  of  the  altar 
is  a  niche  in  the  wall,  now  covered  over,  but  a  round  hole  is  left 
in  the  covering.  I  saw  pilgrims  thrust  a  long  stick  into  this  hole, 
withdraw  it,  and  kiss  the  end.  The  stick  had  touched  a  frag- 
ment of  the  porphyry  column  to  which  the  Saviour  was  bound 
when  he  was  scourged. 

In  the  semicircle  at  the  east  end  of  the  nave  are  several  inter- 
esting places  :  the  prison  where  Christ  was  confined  before  his 
execution,  a  chapel  dedicated  to  the  centurion  who  pierced  the 
side  of  our  Lord,  and  the  spot  on  which  the  vestments  were 
divided.  From  thence  we  descend,  ^by  a  long  flight  of  steps 
partly  hewn  in  the  rock,  to  a  rude,  crypt-like  chapel,  in  the  heavy 
early  Byzantine  style,  a  damp,  cheerless  place,  called  the  Chapel 
of  Helena.  At  the  east  end  of  it  another  flight  of  steps  leads 
down  into  what  was  formerly  a  cistern,  but  is  no-w  called  the 
Chapel  of  the  Invention  of  the  Cross.     Here  the  cross  was  found. 


HOLY    PLACES   OF  THE   HOLY   CITY.  51 

and  at  one  side  of  tlie  steps  stands  the  marble  chair  in  which  the 
mother  of  Constantine  sat  while  she  superintended  the  digging. 
Nothing  is  wanting  that  the  most  credulous  pilgrim  could  wish 
to  see ;  that  is,  nothing  is  wanting  in  spots  where  things  were. 
This  chapel  belongs  to  the  Latins ;  that  of  Helena  to  the  Greeks  ; 
the  Abyssinian  convent  is  above  both  of  them. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  church,  near  the  entrance,  is  a  dark 
room  called  the  Chapel  of  Adam,  in  which  there  is  never  niore 
light  than  a  feeble  taper  can  give.  I  groped  my  way  into  it 
often,  in  the  hope  of  finding  something ;  perhaps  it  is  purposely 
involved  in  an  obscurity  typical  of  the  origin  of  mankind.  There 
is  a  tradition  that  Adam  was  buried  on  Golgotha,  but  the  only 
tomb  in  this  chapel  is  that  of  Melchizedek !  The  chapel  formerly 
contained  that  of  Godfrey  de  Bouillon,  elected  the  first  king  of 
Jerusalem  in  1099,  and  of  Baldwin,  his  brother.  We  were  shown 
the  tAvo-handed  sword  of  Godfrey,  with  which  he  clove  a  Saracen 
lengthwise  into  two  equal  parts,  a  genuine  relic  of  a  heroic  and 
barbarous  age.  At  the  end  of  this  chapel  a  glimmering  light  lets 
us  see  through  a  grating  a  crack  in  the  rock  made  by  the  earth- 
quake at  the  crucifixion. 

The  gloom  of  this  mysterious  chapel,  which  is  haunted  by  the 
spectre  of  that  dim  shadow  of  unreality,  Melchizedek,  prepared 
us  to  ascend  to  Golgotha,  above  it.  The  chapels  of  Golgotha 
are  supported  partly  upon  a  rock  which  rises  fifteen  feet  above 
the  pavement  of  the  church.  The  first  is  that  of  the  Elevation 
of  the  Cross,  and  belongs  to  the  Greeks.  Under  the  altar  at  the 
east  end  is  a  hole  in  the  marble  which  is  over  the  hole  in  the  rock 
in  which  the  cross  stood ;  on  either  side  of  it  are  the  holes  of  the 
crosses  of  the  tAvo  thieves.  The  altar  is  rich  with  silver  and  gold 
and  jewels.  The  chamber,  when  we  entered  it,  was  blazing  with 
light,  and  Latin  monks  were  performing  their  adorations,  with 
chanting  and  swinging  of  incense,  before  the  altar.  A  Greek 
priest  stood  at  one  side,  watching  them,  and  there  was  plain  con- 
tempt in  his  face.  The  Greek  priests  are  not  wanting  in  fanati- 
cism, but  they  never  seem  to  me  to  possess  the  faith  of  the  Latin 
branch  of  the  Catholic  church.  When  the  Latins  had  gone,  the 
Greek  took  us  behind  the  altar,  and  showed  us  another  eaiih- 
quake-rent  in  the  rock. 


52  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Adjoining  this  chapel  is  the  Latin  Chapel  of  the  Crucifixion, 
marl[ing  the  spot  whei-e  Christ  was  nailed  to  the  cross ;  from 
that  we  looked  through  a  window  into  an  exterior  room  dedicated 
to  the  SoiTOwing  Virgin,  where  she  stood  and  beheld  the  cruci- 
fixion. Both  these  latter  rooms  do  not  rest  upon  the  rock,  but 
upon  artificial  vaults,  and  of  course  can  mark  the  spots  commemo- 
rated by  them  only  iti  space. 

Perhaps  this  sensation  of  being  in  the  air,  and  of  having  no 
standing-place  even  for  tradition,  added  something  to  the  strange 
feeling  that  took  possession  of  me ;  a  mingled  feeling  that  was 
no  more  teiTor  than  is  the  apprehension  that  one  experiences  at 
a  theatre  from  the  manufactured  thunder  behind  the  scenes.  I 
suppose  it  arose  from  cross  currents  meeting  in  the  mind,  the 
thought  of  the  aAvful  significance  of  the  events  here  represented 
and  the  sight  of  this  theatrical  representation.  The  dreadful 
name,  Golgotha,  the  gloom  of  this  part  of  the  building,  —  a  sort 
of  mount  of  darkness,  wath  its  rent  rock  and  preternatural  shadow, 
—  the  blazing  contrast  of  the  chapel  where  the  cross  stood  with 
the  dark  passages  about  it,  the  chanting  and  flashing  lights  of 
pilgrims  ever  coming  and  going,  the  neighborhood  of  the  sepul- 
chre itself,  were  well  calculated  to  awaken  an  imagination  the 
least  sensitive.  And,  so  susceptible  is  the  mind  to  the  influence 
of  that  mental  electricity  —  if  there  is  no  better  name  for  it  — 
which  proceeds  from  a  mass  of  minds  having  one  thought  (and  is 
sometimes  called  public  opinion),  be  it  true  or  false,  that  what- 
ever one  may  believe  about  the  real  location  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre, he  cannot  witness,  unmoved,  the  vast  throng  of  pilgrims  to 
these  shrines,  representing  as  they  do  every  section  of  the  civil- 
ized and  of  the  uncivilized  world  into  which  a  belief  in  the  cross 
has  penetrated.  The  undoubted  sincerity  of  the  majority  of  the 
pilgrims  who  worship  here  makes  us  for  the  time  forget  the  hun- 
dred inventions  which  so  often  allure  and  as  often  misdirect  that 
worship. 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  oS'ers  at  all  times  a  great 
spectacle,  and  one  always  novel,  in  the  striking  ceremonies  and 
the  people  who  assist  at  them.  One  of  the  most  extraordinary, 
that  of  the  Holy  Fire,  at  the  Greek  Easter,  which  is  three  weeks 


HOLY   PLACES   OF  THE   HOLY   CITY.  53 

later  than  the  Eoman,  and  which  has  been  so  often  described,  we 
did  not  see.  I  am  not  sure  that  we  saw  even  all  the  thirty-seven 
holy  places  and  objects  in  the  church.  It  may  not  be  unprofitable 
to  set  down  those  I  can  recall.     They  are,  — 

The  Stone  of  Unction. 

The  spot  where  the  Vii-gin  Mary  stood  when  the  body  of  our 
Lord  was  anointed. 

The  Holy  Sepulchre. 

The  stone  on  which  the  angel  sat. 

The  tombs  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  Nicodemus. 

The  well  of  Helena. 

The  stone  marking  the  spot  where  Christ  in  the  form  of  a  gar- 
dener appeared  to  Mary  Magdalene. 

The  spot  where  Mary  Magdalene  stood. 

The  spot  where  our  Lord  appeared  to  the  Virgin  after  his  res- 
urrection. 

The  place  where  the  true  cross,  discovered  by  Helena,  was  laid, 
and  identified  by  a  miracle. 

The  fragment  of  the  Column  of  Flagellation. 

The  prison  of  our  Lord. 

The  "  Bonds  of  Christ,"  a  stone  with  two  holes  in  it. 

The  place  where  the  title  on  the  cross  was  preserved. 

The  place  of  the  division  of  the  vestments. 

The  centre  of  the  earth  (Greek). 

The  centre  of  the  earth  (Armenian). 

The  altar  of  the  centurion  who  pierced  the  body  of  Christ. 

The  altar  of  the  penitent  thief. 

The  Chapel  of  Helena. 

The  chair  in  which  Helena  sat  when  the  cross  was  found. 

The  spot  where  the  cross  was  found. 

The  Chapel  of  the  Mocking,  with  a  fragment  of  the  column 
upon  which  Jesus  sat  when  they  crowned  him  with  thorns. 

The  Chapel  of  the  Elevation  of  the  Cross. 

The  spot  where  the  cross  stood. 

The  spots  where  the  crosses  of  the  thieves  stood. 

The  rent  rock  near  the  cross. 

The  spot  where  Christ  was  nailed  to  the  cross. 


54  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

The  spot  where  the  Virgin  stood  during  the  crucifixion. 

The  Chapel  of  Adam. 

The  tomb  of  Melchizedek. 

The  rent  rock  in  the  Chapel  of  Adam. 

The  spots  where  the  tombs  of  Godfrey  and  Baldwin  stood. 

No,  we  did  not  see  them  all.  Besides,  there  used  to  be  a  piece 
of  the  cross  in  the  Latin  chapel ;  but  the  Armenians  are  accused 
of  purloining  it.  All  travellers,  I  suppose,  have  seen  the  cele- 
brated Iron  Crown  of  Lombardy,  which  is  kept  in  the  church  at 
Monza,  near  Milan.  It  is  aU  of  gold  except  the  inner  band, 
which  is  made  of  a  nail  of  the  cross  brought  from  Jerusalem  by 
Helena.  The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  has  not  all  the  relics 
it  might  have,  but  it  is  as  rich  in  them  as  any  church  of  its  age. 

A  place  in  Jerusalem  almost  as  interesting  to  Christians  as  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  and  more  interesting  to  antiquarians,  is  the 
Harem,  or  Temple  area,  with  its  ancient  substructions  and  its 
resplendent  Saracenic  architecture.  It  is  largely  an  open  place, 
green  with  grass ;  it  is  clean  and  wholesome,  and  the  sun  lies 
lovingly  on  it.  There  is  no  part  of  the  city  where  the  ti'aveller 
would  so  like  to  wander  at  Avill,  to  sit  and  muse,  to  dream  away 
the  day  on  the  walls  overhanging  the  valley  of  the  Kidron,  to 
recall  at  leisure  all  the  wonderful  story  of  its  splendor  and  its 
disaster.  But  admission  to  the  area  is  had  only  by  special  per- 
mit. Therefore  the  ordinary  tourist  goes  not  so  much  as  he 
desires  to  the  site  of  the  Temple  that  Solomon  built,  and  of  the 
porch  where  Jesus  walked  and  talked  with  his  disciples.  When 
he  does  go,  he  feels  that  he  treads  upon  firm  historical  ground. 

We  walked  down  the  gutter  (called  street)  of  David;  we  did 
not  enter  the  Harem  area  by  the  Bab  es-Silsileh  (Gate  of  the 
Chain),  but  turned  northward  and  went  in  by  the  Bab  el-Katanin 
(Gate  of  the  Cotton-Merchants),  which  is  identified  with  the 
Beaiitiful  Gate  of  the  Temple.  Both  these  gates  have  twisted 
columns  and  are  graceful  examples  of  Saracenic  architecture.  As 
soon  as  we  entered  the  gate  the  splendor  of  the  area  burst  upon 
us  ;  we  passed  instantly  out  of  the  sordid  city  into  a  green  plain, 
out  of  which  —  it  could  have  been  by  a  magic  wand  only  —  had 
sprung  the  most  charming  creations  in  stone  :  minarets,  domes. 


HOLY   PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY.  55 

colonnades,  cloisters,  pavilions,  columns  of  all  orders,  horseshoe 
arches  and  pointed  arches,  every  joyous  architectural  thought  ex- 
pressed in  shining  marble  and  brilliant  color. 

Our  dragoman,  Abd-el-Atti,  did  the  honors  of  the  place  with 
the  air  of  proprietorship.  For  the  first  time  in  the  Holy  City  he 
felt  quite  at  home,  and  appeared  to  be  on  the  same  terms  with  the 
Temple  area  that  he  is  with  the  tombs  of  the  Pharaohs.  The 
Christian  antiquities  are  too  much  for  him,  but  his  elastic  mind 
expands  readily  to  all  the  marvels  of  the  Moslem  situation.  The 
Moslems,  indeed,  consider  that  they  have  a  much  better  right  to 
the  Temple  than  the  Christians,  and  Abd-el-Atti  acted  as  our 
cicerone  in  the  precincts  with  all  the  delight  of  a  boy  and  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  faith.  It  was  not  unpleasant  to  him,  either,  to 
have  us  see  that  he  was  treated  with  consideration  by  the  mosque 
attendants  and  ulemas,  and  that  he  Avas  well  known  and  could 
pass  readily  into  the  most  reserved  places.  He  had  said  his 
prayers  that  morning,  at  twelve,  in  this  mosque,  a  privilege  only 
second  to  that  of  .praying  in  the  mosque  at  Mecca,  and  was  in 
high  spirits,  as  one  Avho  had  (if  the  expression  is  allowable)  got 
a  little  ahead  in  the  matter  of  devotion. 

Let  me  give  in  a  few  words,  without  any  qualifications  of 
doubt,  what  seem  to  be  the  well-ascertained  facts  about  this  area. 
It  is  at  present  a  level  piece  of  ground  (in  the  nature  of  a  plat- 
form, since  it  is  sustained  on  all  sides  by  walls),  a  quadrilateral 
with  its  sides  not  quite  parallel,  about  fifteen  hundred  feet  long 
by  one  thousand  feet  broad.  The  northern  third  of  it  was  cov- 
ered by  the  Fortress  of  Antonia,  an  ancient  palace  and  fortress, 
rebuilt  with  great  splendor  by  Herod.  The  small  remains  of  it 
in  the  northeast  corner  are  now  barracks. 

This  level  piece  of  ground  is  nearly  all  artificial,  either  filled  in 
or  built  up  on  arches.  The  original  ground  (IMount  Moriah)  Avas 
a  rocky  hill,  the  summit  of  which  was  the  rock  about  which  thete 
has  been  so  much  controversy.  Near  the  centre  of  this  ground, 
and  upon  a  broad  raised  platform,  paved  with  marble,  stands  the 
celebrated  mosque  Kubbet  es-Sukhrah,  "The  Dome  of  the  Eock." 
It  is  built  over  the  Sacred  Kock. 

This  rock  marks  the  site  of  the  threshing-floor  of  Oman,  the 


56  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Jebusite,  which  David  bought,- purchasing  at  the  same  time  the 
whole  of  Mount  Moriah.  Solomon  built  the  Temple  over  this 
rock,  and  it  was  probably  the  "  stone  of  sacrifice."  At  the  time 
Solomon  built  the  Temple,  the  level  place  on  Moriah  was  scarcely 
large  enough  for  the  naos  of  that  building,  and  Solomon  extended 
the  ground  to  the  east  and  south  by  erecting  arches  and  filling  in 
on  top  of  them,  and  constructing  a  heavy  retaining-wall  outside. 
On  the  east  side  also  he  built  a  porch,  or  magnificent  colonnade, ' 
which  must  have  produced  a  fine  effect  of  Oriental  grandeur  when 
seen  from  the  deep  valley  below  or  from  the  Mount  of  Olives 
opposite. 

To  this  rock  the  Jews  used  to  come,  in  the  fourth  century,  and 
anoint  it  with  oil,  and  AV'ail  over  it,  as  the  site  of  the  Temple.  On 
it  once  stood  a  statue  of  Hadrian.  When  the  Moslems  captured 
Jerusalem,  it  became,  what  it  has  ever  since  been,  one  of  their 
most  venerated  places.  The  Khalif  Omar  cleared  away  the  rub- 
bish from  it,  and  built  over  it  a  mosque.  The  Khalif  Abd-el- 
Melek  began  to  rebuild  it  in  a.  d.  686.  During  the  Crusades  it 
was  used  as  a  Christian  church.  Allowing  for  decay  and  repairs, 
the  present  mosque  is  probably  substantially  that  built  by  Abd- 
el-Melek. 

At  the  extreme  south  of  the  area  is  the  vast  MoSque  of  Aksa, 
a  splendid  basilica  with  seven  aisles,  which  may  or  may  not  be 
the  Church  of  St.  Mary  built  by  Justinian  in  the  sixth  century ; 
architects  differ  about  it.  This  question  it  seems  to  me  very 
difficult  to  decide  from  the  architecture  of  the  building,  because 
of  the  habit  that  Christians  and  Moslems  both  had  of  appropriat- 
ing columns  and  capitals  of  ancient  structures  in  their  buildings ; 
and  because  the  Moslems  at  that  time  used  both  the  round  and 
the  pointed  arch. 

This  platform  is  beyond  all  comparison  the  most  beautiful 
place  in  Jerusalem,  and  its  fairy-like  buildings,  when  seen  from 
the  hill  opposite,  give  to  the  city  its  chief  claim  to  Oriental  pic- 
turesqueness. 

The  dome  of  the  mosque  Kubbet-es-Sukhrah  is  perhaps  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world ;  it  seems  to  float  in  the  air  like  a 
blown  bubble ;  this  effect  is  produced  by  a  slight  drawing  in  of 


HOLY   PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY.  57 

the  base.  This  contraction  of  the  dome  is  not  sufficient  to  give 
the  spectator  any  feeling  of  insecurity,  or  to  belittle  this  architec- 
tural naarvel  to  the  likeness  of  a  big  toy ;  the  builder  hit  the 
exact  mean  between  massiveness  and  expanding  lightness.  The 
mosque  is  octagonal  in  form,  and  although  its  just  proportions 
make  it  appear  small,  it  is  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  diameter ; 
outside  and  in,  it  is  a  blaze  of  color  in  brilliant  marbles,  fine 
mosaics,  stained  glass,  and  beautiful  Saracenic  tiles.  The  lower 
part  of  the  exterior  wall  is  covered  with  colored  marbles  in  intri- 
cate patterns ;  above  are  pointed  windoAvs  with  stained  glass ;  and 
the  spaces  between  the  windows  are  covered  by  glazed  tiles,  with 
arabesque  designs  and  very  rich  in  color.  In  the  interior,  which 
has  all  the  soft  warmth  and  richness  of  Persian  needlework,  are 
two  con'idors,  with  rows  of  columns  and  pillars;  Avithin  the  inner 
row  is  the  Sacred  Eock. 

This  rock,  which  is  the  most  remarkable  stone  in  the  world,  if 
half  we  hear  of  it  be  true,  and  Avhich  by  a  singular  fortune  is 
sacred  to  three  religions,  is  an  irregular  bowlder,  standing  some 
five  feet  above  the  pavement,  and  is  something  like  sixty  feet 
long.  •  In  places  it  has  been  chiselled,  steps  are  cut  on  one  side, 
and  various  niches  are  hcAvn  in  it ;  a  round  hole  pierces  it  from 
top  to  bottom.  The  rock  is  limestone,  a  little  colored  with  iron, 
and  beautiful  in  spots  where  it  has  been  polished.  One  would 
think  that  by  this  time  it  ought  to  be  worn  smooth  aU  over. 

If  we  may  believe  the  Moslems  and  doubt  our  own  senses,  this 
rock  is  suspended  in  the  air,  having  no  support  on  any  side.  It 
was  to  this  rock  that  Mohammed  made  his  midnight  journey  on 
El  Burak ;  it  was  from  here  that  he  ascended  into  Paradise,  an 
excursion  that  occupied  nim  altogether  only  forty  minutes.  It  is, 
I  am  inclined  to  think,  the  miraculous  suspension  of  this  stone 
that  is  the  basis  of  the  Christian  fable  of  the  suspension  of 
Mohammed's  coffin,  —  a  miracle  unknown  to  aU  Moslems  of 
whom  I  have  inquired  concerning  it. 

"  Abd-el-Atti,"  I  said,  "  does  this  rock  rest  on  nothing  ?  " 

"  So  I  have  hunderstood  ;  thim  say  so." 

"  But  do  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  When  I  read  him,  I  believe ;  when  I  come  and  see  him,  I 
can't  help  what  I  see." 


58  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

At  tlie  south  end  of  the  rock  we  descended  a  flight  of  steps 
and  stood  under  the  rock  in  what  is  called  the  Noble  Cave,  a 
small  room  about  six  feet  high,  plastered  and  whitewashed.  .  This 
is  supposed  to  be  the  sink  into  which  the  blood  of  the  Jewish 
sacrifices  drained.  The  plaster  and  whitewash  hide  the  original 
rock,  and  give  the  Moslems  the  opportunity  lo  assert  that  there  is 
no  rock  foundation  under  the  big  stone. 

"  But,"  we  said  to  Abd-el-Atti,  "  if  this  rock  hangs  in  the  air, 
why  cannot  we  see  aU  around  it  ?  Why  these  plaster  walls  that 
seem  to  support  it  ?  " 

"  So  him  used  to  be.  This  done  so,  I  hear,  on  account  of  de 
women.  Thim  come  here,  see  this  rock,  thim  berry  much  fright- 
ened. Der  little  shild,  what  you  call  it,  get  born  in  de  world  be- 
fore him  wanted.     So  thim  make  this  waU  under  it." 

There  are  four  altars  in  this  cave,  one  of  them  dedicated  to 
David ;  here  the  Moslem  prophets,  Abraham,  David,  Solomon, 
and  Jesus,  used  to  pray.  In  the  rock  is  a  round  indentation 
made  by  Mohammed's  head  when  he  first  attempted  to  rise  to 
heaven ;  near  it  is  the  hole  through  which  he  rose.  On  the  up- 
per southeast  corner  of  the  rock  is  the  print  of  the  prophet's  foot, 
and  close  to  it  the  print  of  the  hand  of  the  angel  Michael,  who 
held  the  rock  down  from  following  Mohammed  into  the  skies. 

In  the  mosque  above,  Abd-el-Atti  led  us,  with  much  solemnity, 
to  a  small  stone  set  in  the  pavement  near  the  north  entrance.  It 
was  perforated  with  holes,  in  some  of  which  were  brass  nails. 

"  How  many  holes  you  make  'em  there  ?  " 

"  Thirteen." 

"  How  many  got  nails  ?  " 

"Four."  • 

"  Not  so  many.  Only  three  and  a  half  nails.  Used  to  be 
thirteen  nails.  Now  oidy  three  and  a  half.  "When  these  gone, 
then  the  world  come  to  an  end.     I  t'ink  it  not  berry  long." 

"  I  should  think  the  Moslems  would  watch  this  stone  very 
carefuUy." 

"  What  difference  ?  You  not  t'ink  it  come  when  de  time 
come  ?  " 

We  noticed  some  pieces  of  money  on  the  stone,  and  asked  why 
that  was. 


HOLY   PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY    CITY.  59 

"  Whoever  he  lay  backsheesh  on  this  stone,  he  certain  to  go 
into  Paradise,  and  be  took  by  our  prdphet  in  his  bosom." 

We  wandered  for  some  time  about  the  green  esplanade,  dotted 
■R^ith  cypress-trees,  and  admired  the  little  domes  :  the  Dome  of 
the  Spirits,  the  dome  that  marks  the  spot  where  David  sat  in 
judgment,  etc. ;  some  of  them  cover  cisterns  and  reservoirs  in  the 
rock,  as  old  as  the  foundations  of  the  Temple. 

In  the  corridor  of  the  Mosque  of  Aksa  are  two  columns  stand- 
ing close  together,  and  like  those  at  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  in 
Cairo,  they  are  a  test  of  character ;  it  is  said  that  whoever  can 
squeeze  between  them  is  certain  of  Paradise,  and  must,  of  course,  be 
a  good  Moslem.  I  suppose  that  when  this  test  was  established 
the  Moslems  were  all  lean.  A  black  stone  is  set  in  the  wall  of 
the  porch ;  whoever  can  walk,  with  closed  e^'es,  across  the  porch 
pavement  and  put  his  finger  on  this  stone  may  be  sure  of  entering 
Paradise.  According  to  this  criterion,  the  writer  of  this  is  one 
of  the  elect  of  the  Mohammedan  Paradise  and  his  dragoman  is 
shut  out.  We  were  shown  in  this  mosque  the  print  of  Christ's 
foot  in  a  stone ;  and  it  is  said  that  with  faith  one  can  feel  in  it,  as 
he  can  in  that  of  Mohammed's  in  the  rock,  the  real  flesh.  Open- 
ing from  this  mosque  is  the  small  Mosque  of  Omar,  on  the  spot 
where  that  zealous  khalif  prayed. 

The  massive  pillared  substructions  under  Aksa  are  supposed  by 
Moslems  to  be  of  Solomon's  time.  That  wise  monarch  had  deal- 
ings with  the  invisible,  and  no  doubt  controlled  the  genii,  who 
went  and  came  and  built  and  delved  at  his  bidding.  Abd-el-Atti, 
with  haste  and  an  air  of  mystery,  drew  me  along  under  the  arches  to 
the  window  in  the  south  end,  and  showed  me  the  opening  of  a 
passage  under  the  wall,  now  half  choked  up  with  stones.  This  is 
the  beginning  of  a  subterranean  passage  made  by  the  prophet 
Solomon,  that  extends  all  the  way  to  Hebron,  and  has  an  issue  in 
the  mosque  over  the  tomb  of  Abraham.  This  fact  is  known  only 
to  Moslems,  and  to  very  few  of  them,  and  is  considered  one  of  the 
great  secrets.  Before  I  was  admitted  to  share  it,  I  am  glad  that 
I  passed  between  the  two  columns,  and  touched,  with  my  eyes 
shut,  the  black  stone. 

In  the  southeast  corner  of  the  Harem  is  a  little  buUding:  called 


60  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

the  Mosque  of  Jesus.  We  passed  through  it,  and  descended  the 
stairway  into  what  is  called  Solomon's  Stables,  being  shown  on 
our  way  a  stone  trough  which  is  said  to  be  the  cradle  of  the  infant 
Jesus.  These  so-called  stables  are  subterranean  vaults,  built,  no 
doubt,  to  sustain  the  south  end  of  the  Temple  platform.  We  saw 
fifteen  rows  of  massive  square  pillars  of  unequal  sizes  and  at  un- 
equal distances  apart  (as  if  intended  for  supports  that  would  not 
be  seen),  and  some  forty  feet  high,  connected  by  round  arches. 
We  were  glad  to  reascend  from  this  wet  and  unpleasant  cavern  to 
the  sunshine  and  the  greensward. 

I  forgot  to  mention  the  Well  of  the  Leaf,  near  the  entrance,  in 
the  Mosque  of  Aksa,  and  the  pretty  Moslem  legend  that  gave  it  a 
name,  which  Abd-el-Atti  relates,  though  not  in  the  words  of  the 
hand-book :  — 

"  This  well  beny  old;  call  him  Well  of  the  Leaf;  water  same 
as  Pool  of  Solomon,  healthy  water ;  I  like  him  very  much.  Not 
so  deep  as  Bir  el-Arwah ;  that  small  well,  you  see  it  under  the 
rock ;  they  say  it  goes  down  into  Gehenna." 

"  Why  is  this  called  the  Well  of  the  Leaf?  " 

"  Once,  time  of  Suleiman  [it  was  Omar],  a  friend  of  our 
prophet  come  here  to  pray,  and  when  he  draw  water  to  wash  he 
drop  the  bucket  in  the  bottom  of  the  well.  No  way  to  get  it  up, 
but  he  must  go  down.  When  he  was  on  the  bottom,  there  lie 
much  surprised  by  a  door  open  in  the  ground,  and  him  berry 
cur'ous  to  see  what  it  is.  Nobody  there,  so  he  look  in,  and  then 
walk  through  berry  fast,  and  look  over  him  shoulder  to  the 
bucket  left  in  the  well.  The  place  where  he  was  come  was  the 
most  beautiful  garden  ever  was,  and  he  walk  long  time  and  find  no 
end,  always  more  garden,  so  cool,  and  water  run  in  little  streams, 
and  sweet  smell  of  roses  and  jasmine,  and  little  birds  that  sing, 
and  big  trees  and  dates  and  oranges  and  palms,  more  kind,  I  t'ink, 
than  you  see  in  the  garden  of  his  vice-royal.  When  the  man  have 
been  long  time  in  the  garden  he  begin  to  have  fright,  and  pick  a 
green  leaf  off  a  tree,  and  run  back  and  come  up  to  his  friends. 
He  show  'em  the  green  leaf,  but  nobody  have  Jielieve  what  he 
say.  Then  they  tell  him  story  to  the  kadi,  and  the  kadi  send 
men  to  see  the  garden  in  the  bottom  of  the  well.     They   not 


HOLY   PLACES   OF  THE   HOLY   CITY.  61 

find  any,  not  find  any  door.  Then  the  kadi  he  make  him  a  letter 
to  the  Sultau  —  berry  wise  man  —  and  he  say  (so  I  read  it  in  our 
history),  '  Our  prophet  say.  One  of  my  friends  shall  walk  in  Para- 
dise while  he  is  alive.  If  this  is  come  true,  you  shall  see  the 
leaf,  if  it  still  keep  green.'  Then  the  kadi  make  examine  of  the 
leaf,  and  find  him  green.  So  it  is  believe  the  man  has  been  in 
Paradise." 

"  And  do  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  edzacly  where  him  been.  Where  you  t'ink  he 
done  got  that  leaf?  " 

Along  the  east  wall  of  the  Harem  there  are  no  remains  of  the 
long  colonnade  called  Solomon's  Porch,  not  a  column  of  that  re- 
splendent marble  pavilion  which  caught  the  first  rays  of  the  sun 
over  the  mountains  of  Moab,  and  which,  with  the  shining  temple 
towering  behind  it,  must  have  presented  a  more  magnificent  ap- 
pearance than  Babylon,  and  have  rivalled  the  architectural  glories 
of  Baalbek.  The  only  thing  in  this  wall  worthy  of  note  now  is 
the  Golden  Gate,  an  entrance  no  longer  used.  We  descended 
into  its  archways,  and  found  some  fine  columns  with  composite 
capitals,  and  other  florid  stone-work  of  a  rather  tasteless  and  de- 
based Eoman  style. 

We  climbed  the  wall  by  means  of  the  steps,  a  series  of  which 
are  placed  at  intervals,  and  sat  a  long  time  looking  upon  a  land- 
scape, every  foot  of  which  is  historical.  Merely  to  look  iipon  it 
is  to  recall  a  great  portion  of  the  Jewish  histoiy  and  the  momen- 
tous events  in  the  brief  life  of  the  Saviour,  which,  brief  as  it  was, 
sufficed  to  newly  create  the  earth.  There  is  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
with  its  commemorative  chapels,  heaps  of  stone,  and  scattered 
trees ;  there  is  the  ancient  foot-path  up  which  David  fled  as  a 
fugitive  by  night  from  the  conspiracy  of  Absalom,  what  time 
Shimei,  the  relative  of  Saul,  stoned  him  and  cursed  him;  and 
down  that  Way  of  Triumph,  the  old  road  sweeping  round  its  base, 
came  the  procession  of  the  Son  of  David,  in  whose  path  the  mul- 
titude cast  their  garments  and  branches  of  trees,  and  cried,  "  Ho- 
sanna  in  the  highest."  There  on  those  hills.  Mount  Scopus  and 
Olivet,  were  once  encamped  the  Assyrians,  and  again  the  Persians ; 
there  shone  the  eagles  of  Rome,  borne  by  her  conquering  legions; 


62  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

and  ttere,  in  turn,  Crusaders  and  Saracens  pitched  their  tents. 
How  many  times  has  the  air  been  darkened  with  missiles  hurled 
thence  upon  this  shining  prize,  and  how  many  armies  have  closed 
in  about  this  spot  and  swarmed  to  its  destruction !  There  the 
Valley  of  Jehoshaphat  curves  down  until  it  is  merged  in  the  Val- 
ley of  the  Brook  Kidron.  There,  at  the  junction  of  the  roads  that 
run  over  and  around  Olivet,  is  a  clump  of  trees  surrounded  by 
a  white  wall ;  that  is  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  Near  it  is  the 
tomb  of  Mary.  Farther  down  you  see  the  tomb  of  Absalom,  the 
tomb  of  St.  James,  the  monolith  pyramid-tipped  tomb  of  Zacharias 
(none  of  them  apparently  as  old  as  they  claim  to  be),  and  the  re- 
mains of  a  little  temple,  the  model  of  which  came  from  the  banks 
of  the  Nile,  that  Solomon  built  for  his  Egyptian  wife,  the  daughter 
of  Pharaoh,  wherein  they  worshipped  the  gods  of  her  country.  It 
is  tradition  also  that  near  here  were  some  of  the  temples  he  built 
for  others  of  his  strange  wives  :  a  temple  to  Chemosh,  the  Moab- 
ite  god,  and  the  image  of  Moloch,  the  devourer  of  children.  Sol- 
omon was  wiser  than  all  men,  wiser  than  Heman,  and  Chalcol, 
and  Darda,  the  sons  of  Mahol ;  his  friend  Hiram  of  Tyre  used  to 
send  riddles  to  him  which  no  one  in  the  world  but  Solomon  could 
guess ;  but  his  wisdom  failed  him  with  the  other  sex,  and  there 
probably  never  was  another  Oriental  court  so  completely  ruled 
and  ruined  by  women  as  his. 

This  valley  below  us  is  perhaps  the  most  melancholy  on  earth; 
nowhere  else  is  death  so  visibly  master  of  the  scene ;  nature  is 
worn  out,  man  tired  out;  a  gray  despair  has  settled  down  upon 
the  landscape.  Down  there  is  the  village  of  Siloam,  a  village  of 
huts  and  holes  in  the  rocks,  opposite  the  cave  of  that  name.  If  it 
were  the  abode  of  wolves  it  would  have  a  better  character  than  it 
has  now.  There  is  the  grim  cast  of  sin  and  exhaustion  upon  the 
scene.  I  do  not  know  exactly  how  much  of  this  is  owing  to  the 
Jewish  burying-ground,  which  occupies  so  much  of  the  opposite 
hiU.  The  slope  is  thickly  shingled  with  gray  stones,  that  lie  in  a 
sort  of  regularity  which  suggests  their  purpose.  You  fall  to  com- 
puting how  many  Jews  there  may  be  in  that  hill,  layer  upon  layer; 
for  the  most  part  they  are  dissolved  aAvay  into  the  earth,  but  you 
think  that  if  they  were  to  put  on  their  mortal  bodies  and  come 


HOLY   PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY.  63 

forth,  the  valley  itself  would  be  filled  with  them  almost  to  the 
height  of  the  wall.  Out  of  these  gates,  giving  upon  this  valley 
of  death,  six  hundred  thousand  bodies  of  those  who  had  starved 
were  thrown  during  the  siege,  and  long  before  Titus  stormed  the 
city.  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  Moslems  think  of  this  frightful 
vale  as  Gehenna  itself. 

From  an  orifice  in  the  battlemented  wall  where  we  sat  projects 
a  round  column,  mounted  there  like  a  cannon,  and  perhaps  in- 
tended to  deceive  an  enemy  into  the  belief  that  the  wall  is  forti- 
fied. It  is  astride  this  column,  overhanging  this  dreadful  valley, 
that  Mohammed  will  sit  at  the  last,  the  judgment  day.  A  line 
finer  than  a  hair  and  sharper  than  a  razor  Avill  reach  from  it  to 
the  tower  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  stretching  over  the  valley  of 
the  dead.  This  is  the  line  Es-Serat.  Mohammed  Avill  superin- 
tend the  passage  over  it.  For  in  that  day  all  who  ever  lived, 
risen  to  judgment,  must  walk  this  razor-line  ;  the  good  will  cross 
in  safety  ;  the  bad  will  fall  into  hell,  that  is,  into  Gehenna,  this 
blasted  gulf  and  side-hill  below,  thickly  sown  Avith  departed  Jews. 
It  is  in  view  of  this  perilous  passage  that  the  Moslem  every  day, 
during  the  ablution  of  his  feet,  prays  :  "  0,  make  my  feet  not  to 
slip  on  Es-Serat,  on  that  day  when  feet  shall  slip." 


IV. 

NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM. 

WHEREVER  we  come  upon  traces  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John, 
there  a  door  opens  for  us  into  romance ;  the  very  name 
suggests  valor  and  courtesy  and  charity.  Every  town  in  the 
East  that  is  so  fortunate  as  to  have  any  memorials  of  them,  what- 
ever its  other  historic  associations,  obtains  an  additional  and 
special  fame  from  its  connection  with  this  heroic  order.  The  city 
of  Acre  recalls  the  memory  of  their  useless  prowess  in  the  last 
struggle  of  the  Christians  to  retain  a  foothold  in  Palestine ;  the 
name  of  the  Knights  of  Rhodes  brings  before  every  traveller,  who 
has  seen  it,  the  picturesque  city  in  which  the  armorial  insignia  of 
this  order  have  for  him  a  more  living  interest  than  any  antiquities 
of  the  Grecian  Rose ;  the  island  fortress  at  the  gate  of  the  Levant 
owes  all  the  interest  we  feel  in  it  to  the  Knights  of  Malta ;  and 
even  the  city  of  David  and  of  the  Messiah  has  an  added  lustre  as 
the  birthplace  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem. 

From  the  eleventh  century  to  the  fifteenth,  they  are  the  chief 
figures  who  in  that  whirlwind  of  war  contested  the  possession  of 
the  Levant  ^vith  the  Saracens  and  the  Turks.  In  the  forefront 
of  every  battle  was  seen  their  burnished  mail,  in  the  gloomy  rear 
of  every  retreat  were  heard  their  voices  of  constancy  and  of  cour- 
age ;  wherever  there  were  crowns  to  be  cracked,  or  wounds  to  he 
bound  up,  or  broken  hearts  to  be  ministered  to,  there  were  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,  soldiers,  priests,  servants,  laying  aside  the 
gown  for  the  coat  of  mail  if  need  be,  or  exchanging  the  cuirass 
for  the  Avhite  cross  on  the  bi'east.  Originally  a  charitable  order, 
dwelling  in  the  Hospital  of  St.  John  to  minister  to  the  pilgrims 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF  JERUSALEM.  65 

to  Jerusalem,  and  composed  of  yoimg  soldiers  of  Godfrey,  who 
took  the  vows  of  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience,  they  resumed 
their  arms  upon  the  pressure  of  infidel  hostility,  and  subsequently 
divided  the  order  into  three  classes :  soldiers,  priests,  and  ser- 
vants. They  speedily  acquired  great  power  and  wealth ;  their 
palaces,  their  fortifications,  their  churches,  are  even  in  their  ruins 
the  admiration  and  Avonder  of  our  age.  The  purity  of  the  order 
was  in  time  somewhat  sullied  by  luxury,  but  their  valor  never 
suffered  the  slightest  eclipse ;  whether  the  field  they  contested 
was  lost  or  won,  their  bravery  always  got  new  honor  from  it. 

Nearly  opposite  the  court  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
is  the  green  field  of  Muristan,  the  site  of  the  palace,  church,  and 
hospital  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John.  The  field  was,  on  an  aver- 
age, twenty-five  feet  above  the  surrounding  streets,  and  a  portion 
of  it  was  known  to  rest  upon  vaults.  This  plot  of  ground  was 
given  to  the  Prussian  government,  and  its  agents  have  been  mak- 
ing excavations  there ;  these  were  going  on  at  the  time  of  our 
visit.  The  disclosures  are  of  great  architectural  and  historical 
interest.  The  entrance  through  a  peculiar  Gothic  gateway  leads 
into  a  court.  Here  the  first  excavations  were  made  several  years 
ago,  and  disclosed  some  splendid  remains  :  the  apse  of  the  costly 
church,  cloisters,  fine  windows  and  arches  of  the  best  Gothic 
style.  Beyond,  the  diggings  have  brought  to  light  some  of  the 
features  of  the  palace  and  hospital ;  an  excavation  of  twenty-five 
feet  reaches  down  to  the  arches  of  the  substructure,  which  rest 
upon  pillars  from  forty  to  fifty  feet  high.  This  gives  us  some 
notion  of  the  magnificent  group  of  buildings  that  once  occupied 
this  square,  and  also  of  the  industry  of  nature  as  an  entomber, 
since  some  four  centuries  have  sufficed  her  to  bury  these  ruins  so 
far  beneath  the  soil,  that  peasants  ploughed  over  the  palaces  of 
the  knights  without  a  suspicion  of  what  lay  beneath. 

In  one  corner  of  this  field  stands  a  slender  minaret,  marking 
the  spot  where  the  great  Omar  once  said  his  prayers  ;  four  cen- 
turies after  this,  Saladin  is  said  to  have  made  his  military  head- 
quarters in  the  then  deserted  palace  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John. 
There  is  no  spot  in  Jenisalem  where  one  touches  more  springs 
of  romance  than  in  this  field  of  Muristan. 


66  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  and  dolefiJ  walk  one  can  take 
near  Jerusalem  is  that  into  the  Yalley  of  Kidron  and  through  Acel- 
dama, round  to  the  Jatta  Gate,  traversing  "  the  whole  valley  of 
the  dead  bodies,  and  of  the  ashes,"  in  the  cheerful  words  of 
Jeremiah. 

We  picked  our  way  through  the  filthy  streets  and  on  the  slip- 
pery cobble-stones,  —  over  which  it  seems  dangerous  to  ride  and 
is  nearly  impossible  to  walk,  —  out  through  St.  Stephen's  Gate. 
Near  the  gate,  inside,  we  turned  into  an  alley  and  climbed  a  heap 
of  rubbish  to  see  a  pool,  which  the  guide  insisted  upon  calling 
Bethesda,  although  it  is  Birket  Israil.  Having  seen  many  of 
these  pools,  1  did  not  expect  much,  but  I  was  stdl  disappointed. 
We  saw  merely  a  hole  in  the  ground,  which  is  void  of  all  appear- 
ance of  ever  having  been  even  damp.  The  fact  is,  we  have  come 
to  Jerusalem  too  late ;  we  ought  to  have  been  here  about  two 
thousand  years  ago. 

The  slope  of  the  hill  outside  the  gate  is  covered  with  the  tur- 
baned  tombs  of  Moslems  ;  we  passed  under  the  walls  and  thi'ough 
this  cemetery  into  the  deep  valley  below,  crossing  the  bed  of  the 
brook  near  the  tombs  of  Absalom,  Jehoshaphat,  St.  James,  and 
Zacharias.  These  all  seem  to  be  of  Eoman  construction  ;  but 
that  called  Absalom's  is  so  firmly  believed  to  be  his  that  for  cen- 
turies every  Jew  who  has  passed  it  has  cast  a  stone  at  it,  and 
these  pebbles  of  hate  partially  cover  it.  We  also  added  to  the 
heap,  but  I  do  not  know  why,  for  it  is  nearly  impossible  to  hate 
any  one  who  has  been  dead  so  long. 

The  most  interesting  phenomenon  in  the  valley  is  the  Fountain 
of  the  Virgin,  or  the  Fountain  of  Accused  Women,  as  it  used  to 
be  called.  The  Moslem  tradition  is  that  it  was  a  test  of  the  un- 
faithfulness of  women ;  those  who  drank  of  it  and  were  guilty, 
died ;  those  Avho  were  iiniocent  received  no  harm.  The  Virgin 
Mary  herself,  being  accused,  accepted  this  test,  drank  of  the 
water,  and  proved  her  chastity.  Since  then  the  fountain  has 
borne  her  nariie.  The  fountain,  or  well,  is  in  the  side-hill,  under 
the  rocks  of  Ophel,  and  the  Avater  springs  up  in  an  artificial  cave. 
We  descended  some  sixteen  steps  to  a  long  chamber,  archeil  with 
ancient  masonry ;  we  passed  through  that  and  descended  fourteen 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM.  67 

steps  more  into  a  grotto,  where  we  saw  the  water  flowing  in  and 
escaping  by  a  subteiTanean  passage.  About  this  fountain  were 
lounging  groups  of  Moslem  idlers,  mostly  women  and  children. 
Not  far  off  a  Moslem  was  saying  his  prayers,  prostrating  himself 
before  a  prayer-niche.  We  had  difficulty  in  making  our  way 
down  the  steps,  so  encumbered  were  they  with  women.  Several 
of  them  sat  upon  the  lowest  steps  in  the  damp  cavern,  gossiping, 
filling  their  water-skins,  or  paddling  about  with  naked  feet. 

The.  well,  like  many  others  in  Syria,  is  intermittent  and  iiTegu- 
lar  in  its  rising  and  falling ;  sometimes  it  is  dry,  and  then  sud- 
denly it  bubbles  up  and  is  full  again.  Some  scholars  think  this 
is  the 'Pool  Bethesda  of  the  New  Testament,  others  think  that 
Bethesda  was  Siloam,  which  is  below  this  well  and  fed  by  it,  and 
would  exhibit  the  same  irregidar  rising  and  falling.  This  inter- 
mittent character  St.  John  attributed  to  an  angel  who  came  down 
and  troubled  the  water ;  the  Moslems,  with  the  same  superstition, 
say  that  it  is  caused  by  a  dragon,  who  sleeps  therein  and  checks 
the  stream  when  he  wakes. 

On  our  way  to  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  we  passed  the  village  of  Si- 
loam,  which  is  inhabited  by  about  a  thousand  Moslems,  —  a  nest 
of  stone  huts  and  caves  clinging  to  the  side-hill,  and  exactly  the 
gray  color  of  its  stones.  The  occupation  of  the  inhabitants  ap- 
pears to  be  begging,  and  hunting  for  old  copper  coins,  mites,  and 
other  pieces  of  Jewish  money.  These  relics  they  pressed  upon  us 
with  the  utmost  urgency.  It  was  easier  to  satisfy  the  beggars 
than  the  traders,  who  sallied  out  upon  us  like  hungry  wolves  from 
their  caves.  There  is  a  great  choice  of  disagreeable  places  in  the 
East,  but  I  cannot  now  think  of  any  that  I  should  not  prefer  as  a 
residence  to  Siloam. 

The  Pool  of  Siloam,  magnified  in  my  infant  mind  as  "  Siloam's 
shady  rill,"  is  an  unattractive  sink-hole  of  dirty  water,  surrounded 
by  modern  masomy.  The  valley  here  is  very  stony.  Just  below 
we  came  to  Solomon's  Garden,  an  arid  spot,  with  patches  of  stone- 
walls, struggling  to  be  a  vegetable-garden,  and  somewhat  green 
with  lettuce  and  Jerusalem  artichokes.  I  have  no  doubt  it  was 
quite  another  thing  when  Solomon  and  some  of  his  wives  used  to 
walk  here  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  and  even  when  Shallum,  the  son 


68  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

of  Col-hozeh,  set  up  "  the  wall  of  the  Pool  of  Siloah  by  the  king's 
garden." 

We  continued  on,  down  to  Joab's  Well,  passing  on  the  way 
Isaiah's  Tree,  a  decrepit  sycamore  propped  up  by  a  stone  pillar, 
where  that  prophet  was  sawn  asunder.  There  is  no  end  to  the 
cheerful  associations  of  the  valley.  The  Well  of  Joab,  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five  feet  deep,  and  walled  and  arched  with  fine  ma- 
sonry, has  a  great  appearance  of  antiquity.  We  plucked  maiden- 
liair  from  its  crevices,  and  read  the  Old  Testament  references. 
Near  it  is  a  square  pool  fed  by  its  water.  Some  little  distance 
below  this,  the  waters  of  all  these  wells,  pools,  drains,  sinks,  or 
whatever  they  are,  reappear  bursting  up  through  a  basin  of  sand 
and  pebbles,  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  run  brawling  off  down  the 
valley  under  a  grove  of  large  olive-trees,  —  a  scene  rural  and  in- 
viting. 

I  suppose  it  would  be  possible  to  trace  the  whole  system  of  un- 
derground water  ways  and  cisterns,  from  Solomon's  Pool,  which 
send?  its  water  into  town  by  an  aqueduct  near  the  Jaffa  Gate,  to 
Hezekiah's  Pool,  to  the  cisterns  under  the  Harem,  and  so  out  tc 
the  Virgin's  Well,  the  Pool  of  Siloani,  and  the  final  gush  of  sweet 
Avater  below.  This  valley  drains,  probably  artificially  as  well  as 
natui-ally,  the  whole  city,  for  no  sewers  exist  in  the  latter. 

We  turned  back  from  this  sparkling  brook,  which  speedily  sinks 
into  the  ground  again,  absorbed  by  the  thirsty  part  of  the  valley 
called  Tophet,  and  went  up  the  Valley  of  Hinnora,  passing  under 
the  dark  and  frowning  ledges  of  Aceldama,  honey-combed  with 
tombs.  In  this  "  field  of  blood  "  a  grim  stone  structure  forms  the 
front  of  a  natural  cave,  which  is  the  charnel-house  where  the  dead 
were  cast  pell-mell,  in  the  belief  that  the  salts  in  the  earth  would 
speedily  consume  them.  The  path  we  travel  is  rugged,  steep,  and 
incredibly  stony.  The  whole  of  this  region  is  inexpressibly  deso- 
late, worn-out,  pale,  uncanny.  The  height  above  this  rocky  ter- 
race, stuffed  with  the  dead,  is  the  Hill  of  Evil  Counsel,  where  the 
Jews  took  counsel  against  Jesus  ;  and  to  add  the  last  touch  of  an 
harmonious  picture,  just  above  this  Potter's  Pield  stands  the  ac- 
cursed tree  upon  which  Judas  hanged  himself,  raising  its  gaunt 
brancl'*^    /gainst  the  twilight  sky,  a  very  gallows-tree  to  the  ira- 


NEIGHBORHOODS    OF   JERUSALEM.  69 

agination.  It  has  borne  no  fruit  since  Iscariot.  Towards  dusk, 
sometimes,  as  you  stand  on  the  wall  by  Ziou  Gate,  you  almost 
fancy  you  can  see  him  dangling  there.  It  is  of  no  use  to  tell  me 
that  the  seed  that  raised  this  tree  could  not  have  sprouted  till  a 
thousand  years  after  Judas  was  crumbled  into  dust;  one  must 
have  faith  in  something. 

This  savage  gorge,  for  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  is  little  more 
than  that  in  its  narrowest  part,  has  few  associations  that  are  not 
horrible.  Here  Solomon  set  up  the  images  ("the  groves,"  or  the  ^^^  ^^t 
gi'aven  images),  and  the  temples  for  the  lascivious  rites  of  Ashta-  tJ^W*^*^ 
roth  or  the  human  sacrifices  to  Moloch.  Here  the  Jews,  the 
kings  and  successors  of  Solomon,  with  a  few  exceptions,  and  save 
an  occasional  spasmodic  sacrifice  to  Jehovah  when  calamity  made 
them  fear  him,  practised  all  the  abominations  of  idolatry  in  use  in 
that  age.  The  Jews  had  always  been  more  or  less  addicted  to 
the  worship  of  the  god  of  Ammon,  but  Solomon  first  formally 
established  it  in  Hinnom.  Jeremiah  writes  of  it  historically, 
"  They  have  built  the  high  places  of  Tophet,  which  is  in  the  val- 
ley of  the  son  of  Hinnom,  to  burn  their  sons  and  their  daughters 
in  the  fire."  This  Moloch  was  as  ingenious  a  piece  of  cruelty  as 
ever  tried  the  faith  of  heretics  in  later  times,  and,  since  it  was 
purely  a  means  of  human  sacrifice,  and  not  a  means  of  gi-ace  (as 
Inquisitorial  tortures  were  supposed  to  be),  its  use  is  conclusive 
proof  of  the  savage  barbarity  of  the  people  who  delighted  in  it. 
Moloch  was  the  monstrous  brass  image  of  a  man  with  the  head 
of  an  ox.  It  was  hollow,  and  the  interior  contained  a  furnace  by 
which  the  statue  was  made  red-hot.  Children  —  the  offerings  to 
the  god  —  were  then  placed  in  its  g'lowing  arms,  and  drums  were 
beaten  to  drown  their  cries.  It  is  painfid  to  recall  these  things, 
but  the  traveller  should  always  endeavor  to  obtain  the  historical 
flavor  of  the  place  he  visits. 

Continuing  our  walks  among  the  antiquities  of  Jerusalem,  we 
went  out  of  the  Damascus  Gate,  a  noble  battlemented  structure, 
through  which  runs  the  great  northern  highway  to  Samaria  and 
Damascus.  The  road,  however,  is  a  mere  path  over  ledges  and 
through  loose  stones,  fit  only  for  donkeys.  If  Rehoboam  went 
this  way  in  his  chariot  to  visit  Jeroboam  in  Samaria,  there  must 


70  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

have  existed  then  a  better  road,  or  else  the  king  endured  hard 
pounding  for  tlie  sake  of  the  dignity  of  his  conveyance.  As  soon 
as  we  left  the  gate  we  encountered  hills  of  stones  and  paths  of 
the  roughest  description.  There  are  several  rock  tombs  on  this 
side  of  the  city,  but  we  entered  only  one,  that  called  by  some  the 
Tombs  of  the  Kings,  and  by  others,  with  more  reason,  the  Tomb 
of  Helena,  a  heathen  convert  to  Judaism,  who  built  this  sepulchre 
for  herself  early  in  the  first  century.  The  tomb,  excavated  en- 
tirely in  the  solid  rock,  is  a  spacious  atfair,  having  a  large  court 
and  ornamented  vestibule  and  many  chambers,  extending  far  into 
the  rock,  and  a  singidar  network  of  nan'ow  passages  and  recesses 
for  the  deposit  of  the  dead.  It  had  one  device  that  is  worthy 
of  the  ancient  Egyptians.  The  entrance  was  closed  by  a  heavy 
square  stone,  so  hung  that  it  would  yield  to  pressure  from  with- 
out, but  would  swing  to  its  place  by  its  own  weight,  and  fitted  so 
closely  that  it  could  not  be  moved  from  the  inside.  If  any  thief 
entered  the  tomb  and  left  this  slab  unsecured,  he  would  be  in- 
stantly caught  in  the  trap  and  become  a  permanent  occupant. 
Large  as  the  tomb  is,  its  execution  is  mean  compared  with  the 
rock  tombs  of  Egypt ;  but  the  exterior  stone  of  the  court,  from 
its  exposure  in  this  damp  and  variable  climate,  appears  older  than 
Egyptian  work  which  has  been  uncovered  three  times  as  long. 

At  the  tomb  we  encountered  a  dozen  students  from  the  Latin 
convent,  fine-looking  fellows  in  long  blue-black  gowns,  red  caps, 
and  red  sashes.  They  sat  upon  the  grass,  on  the  brink  of  the 
excavation,  stringing  rosaries  and  singing  student  songs,  with 
evident  enjoyment  of  the  hour's  freedom  from  the  school ;  they 
not  only  made  a  picturesque  appearance,  but  they  impressed  us 
also  as  a  Jerusalem  group  which  was  neither  sinful  nor  dirty. 
Beyond  this  tomb  we  noticed  a  handsome  modern  dwelling-house ; 
you  see  others  on  various  eminences  outside  the  city,  aiul  we 
noted  them  as  the  most  encouraging  sign  of  prosperity  about 
Jerusalem. 

We  returned  over  the  hill  and  by  the  city  wall,  passing  the 
Cave  of  Jeremiah  and  the  door  in  the  wall  that  opens  into  the 
stone  quai'ries  of  Solomon.  These  quarries  underlie  a  consider- 
able portion  of  the  city,  and  furnished  the  stone  for  its  ancient 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF  JERUSALEM.  71 

buildings.  I  will  not  impose  iipon  you  a  description  of  them ; 
for  it  would  be  unfair  to  send  you  into  disagreeable  places  that  I 
did  not  explore  myself. 

The  so-called  Grotto  of  Jeremiah  is  a  natural  cavern  in  the 
rocky  hill,  vast  in  extent,  I  think  thirty  feet  high  and  a  hundred 
feet  long  by  seventy  broad,  —  as  big  as  a  church.  The  tradition 
is  that  Jeremiah  lived  and  lamented  here.  In  front  of  the  cave 
are  cut  stones  and  pieces  of  polished  columns  built  into  walls  and 
seats ;  these  fragments  seem  to  indicate  the  former  existence  here 
of  a  Roman  temple.  The  cave  is  occupied  by  an  old  dervish,  who 
has  a  house  in  a  rock  near  by,  and  uses  the  cavern  as  a  cool  re- 
treat and  a  stable  for  his  donkey.  His  rocky  home  is  shared  by 
his  wife  and  family.  He  said  that  it  was  better  to  live  alone,  apart 
from  the  world  and  its  snares.  He,  however,  finds  the  reputation 
of  Jeremiah  profitable,  selling  admission  to  the  cave  at  a  franc  a 
head,  and,  judging  by  the  women  and  children  about  him,  he 
seemed  to  have  family  enough  not  to  be  lonely. 

The  sojourner  in  Jerusalem  who  does  not  care  for  antiquities 
can  always  entertain  himself  by  a  study  of  the  pilgi-ims  who 
throng  the  city  at  this  season.  We  hear  more  of  the  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca  than  of  that  to  Jerusalem ;  but  I  think  the  latter  is  the 
more  remarkable  phenomenon  of  our  modern  life  ;  I  believe  it 
equals  the  former,  which  is  usually  overrated,  in  numbers,  and  it 
certainly  equals  it  in  zeal  and  surpasses  it  in  the  variety  of  na- 
tionalities represented.  The  pilgrims  of  the  cross  increase  yearly; 
to  supply  their  wants,  to  minister  to  their  credulity,  to  traffic 
on  their  faith,  is  the  great  business  of  the  Holy  City.  Few,  I 
imagine,  who  are  not  in  Palestine  in  the  spring,  have  any  idea  of 
the  extent  of  this  vast  yearly  movement  of  Christian  people  upon 
the  Holy  Land,  or  of  the  simple  zeal  which  characterizes  it.  If 
it  were  in  any  way  obstructed  or  hindered,  we  should  have  a 
repetition  of  the  Crusades,  on  a  vaster  scale  and  gathered  from  a 
broader  area  than  the  wiklest  pilgrimage  of  the  holy  Avar.  The 
driblets  of  travel  from  America  and  from  Western  Tuirope  are  as 
nothing  in  the  crowds  thronging  to  Jerusalem  from  Ethiopia  to 
Siberia,  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Ural  Mountains.  Already  for  a 
year  before  the  Easter  season  have   they  been   on   foot,  slowly 


72 


IN  THE  LEVANT. 


pushing  their  way  across  great  steppes,  through  snows  and  over 
rivers,  crossing  deserts  and  traversing  unfriendly  countries ;  the 
old,  the  infirm,  women  as  well  as  men,  their  faces  set  towards 
Jerusalem.  No  common  curiosity  moves  this  mass,  from  Ethio- 
pia, from  Egypt,  from  Russia,  from  European  Turkey,  from  Asia 
Minor,  from  the  banks  of  the  Tagus  and  the  Araxes ;  it  is  a  true 
pilgrimage  of  faith,  the  one  event  in  a  life  of  dull  monotony  and 
sordid  cares,  the  one  ecstasy  of  poetry  in  an  existence  of  poverty 
and  ignorance. 

We  spent  a  morning  in  the  Russian  Hospice,  which  occupies 
the  hill  to  the  northwest  of  the  city.  It  is  a  fine  pile  of  build- 
ings, the  most  conspicuous  of  which,  on  account  of  its  dome,  is 
the  church,  a  large  edifice  with  a  showy  exterior,  but  of  no  great 
merit  or  interest.  We  were  shown  some  holy  pictures  which  are 
set  in  frames  incrusted  with  diamonds,  emeralds,  rubies,  and 
other  precious  gems,  the  offerings  of  rich  devotees,  and  display- 
ing their  Avealth  rather  than  their  taste. 

The  establishment  has  one  building  for  the  accommodation  of 
rich  pilgrims,  and  a  larger  one  set  apart  for  peasants.  The  hos- 
pice lodges,  free  of  charge,  all  the  Russian  pilgrims.  The  ex- 
terior court  was  fidl  of  them.  They  were  sunning  themselves, 
but  not  inclined  to  lay  aside  their  hot  furs  and  heavy  woollens. 
We  passed  into  the  interior,  entering  room  after  room  occupied 
by  the  pilgrims,  who  regarded  our  intrusion  with  good-natured 
indifference,  or  frankly  returned  our  curiosity.  Some  of  the 
rooms  were  large,  furnished  with  broad  divans  about  the  sides, 
which  served  for  beds  and  lounging-placcs,  and  were  occupied 
by  both  sexes.  The  women,  rosy-cheeked,  light-haired,  broad, 
honest-looking  creatures,  were  mending  their  clothes ;  the  men 
were  snoozing  on  the  divans,  flat  on  their  backs,  presenting  to 
the  spectator  the  bottoms  of  their  monstrous  shoes,  which  had 
soles  eight  inches  broad  ;  a  side  of  leather  would  be  needed  for  a 
pair.  In  these  not  very  savory  rooms  they  cook,  eat,  and  sleep. 
Here  stood  their  stoves;  here  huns  their  pilgrim  knapsacks;  here 
were  their  kits  of  shoemaker's  tools,  for  mending  their  foot-gear, 
which  they  had  tugged  thousands  of  miles ;  here  were  honsehold 
effects  that  made  their  march  appear  more  like  an  emigration 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM.  73 

than  a  pilgrimage ;  here  -were  the  staring  pictures  of  St.  George 
and  the  Dragon,  and  of  other  saints,  the  beads  and  the  other 
relics,  which  they  had  bought  in  Jerusalem. 

Although  all  these  pUgrims  owed  allegiance  to  the  Czar,  they 
represented  a  considerable  variety  of  races.  They  came  from 
Archangel,  from  Tobolsk,  from  the  banks  of  the  Ural,  from  Kur- 
land  ;  they  had  found  their  way  along  the  Danube,  the  Dnieper, 
the  Don.  I  spoke  with  a  group  of  men  and  women  who  had 
walked  over  tAvo  thousand  miles  before  they  reached  Odessa  and 
took  ship  for  Jaffa.  There  w^ere  among  them  Cossacks,  wild  and 
untidy,  light-haired  barbarians  from  the  Caucasus,  dark-skinned 
men  and  women  from  Moscow,  representatives  from  the  remotest 
provinces  of  great  Russia ;  for  the  most  part  simple,  rude,  clumsy, 
honest  boors.  In  an  interior  court  we  found  men  and  women 
seated  on  the  sunny  flagging,  busily  occupied  in  arranging  and 
packing  the  souvenirs  of  their  visit.  There  was  rosemary  spread 
out  to  dry ;  there  were  little  round  cakes  of  blessed  bread  stamped 
wath  the  image  of  the  Saviour;  there  were  branches  of  palm, 
crowns  of  thorns,  and  stalks  of  cane  cut  at  the  Jordan ;  there 
were  tin  cases  of  Jordan  water ;  there  were  long  strips  of  cotton 
cloth  stamped  in  black  with  various  insignia  of  death,  to  serve  at 
home  for  coffin-covers ;  there  were  skull-caps  in  red,  yellow,  and 
white,  also  stamped  with  holy  images,  to  be  put  on  the  heads  of 
the  dead.  I  could  not  but  in  mind  follow  these  people  to  their 
distant  homes,  and  think  of  the  pride  with  which  they  would 
show  these  trophies  of  their  pilgrimage ;  how  the  rude  neighbors 
would  handle  Avith  awe  a  stick  cut  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan, 
or  eat  with  faith  a  bit  of  the  holy  bread.  How  sacred,  in  those 
homes  of  frost  and  snow,  will  not  these  mementos  of  a  land  of 
sun,  of  a  land  so  sacred,  become  !  I  can  see  the  Avooden  chest  in 
the  cabin  where  the  rosemary  Avill  be  treasured,  keeping  SAA'eet, 
against  the  day  of  need,  the  caps  and  the  shrouds. 

These  people  will  need  to  make  a  good  many  more  pilgrimages, 
and  perhaps  to  quit  their  morose  land  altogether,  before  they  can 
fairly  rank  among  the  civilized  of  the  earth.  They  were  thick- 
set, padded-legged,  short-bodied,  unintelligent.  The  faces  of 
many  of  them  Avere  worn,  as  if  storm-beaten,  and  some  kept 
4 


74 


IN   THE   LEVANT. 


their  eyes  half  closed,  as  if  they  were  long  used  to  face  the  sleet 
and  blasts  of  winter ;  and  I  noticed  that  it  gave  their  faces  a  very 
different  expression  from  that  produced  by  the  habit  the  Egyp- 
tians have  of  drawing  the  eyelids  close  together  on  account  of 
the  glare  of  the  sun. 

We  took  donkeys  one  lovely  morning,  and  rode  from  the  Jaffa 
Gate  around  the  walls  on  our  way  to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  The 
Jerusalem  donkey  is  a  good  enough  donkey,  but  he  won't  go.  He 
is  ridden  with  a  halter,  and  never  so  elegantly  capai'isoned  as 
his  more  genteel  brother  in  Cairo.  In  order  to  get  him  along  at 
all,  it  needs  one  man  to  pull  the  halter  and  another  to  follow  be- 
hind with  a  stick;  the  donkey  then  moves  by  inches,  —  if  he  is 
in  the  humor.  The  animal  that  I  rode  stopped  at  once,  when  he 
perceived  that  his  driver  was  absent.  No  persuasions  of  mine, 
such  as  kicks  and  whacks  of  a  heavy  stick,  could  move  him  on ; 
he  would  turn  out  of  the  road,  put  his  head  against  the  wall,  and 
pretend  to  go  to  sleep.  You  would  not  suppose  it  possible  for  a 
beast  to  exhibit  so  much  contempt  for  a  man. 

On  the  high  ground  outside  the  wall  were  pitched  the  tents  of 
travellers,  making  a  very  pretty  effect  amid  the  olive-trees  and  the 
gray  rocks.  Now  and  then  an  Arab  horseman  came  charging 
down  the  road,  or  a  Turkish  official  cantered  by ;  women,  veiled, 
clad  in  white  balloon  robes  that  covered  them  from  head  to  foot, 
flitted  along  in  the  sunshine,  mere  white  appearances  of  women, 
to  whom  it  was  impossible  to  attribute  any  such  errand  as  going 
to  market ;  they  seemed  always  to  be  going  to  or  returning  from 
the  cemetery. 

Our  way  lay  down  the  rough  path  and  the  winding  road  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat.  Leaving  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane  on  our  right,  we  climbed  up  the  rugged,  stony,  steep 
path  to  the  summit  of  the  hill.  There  are  a  few  olive-trees  on 
the  way,  enough  to  hinder  the  view  where  the  stone-walls  would 
permit  us  to  see  anything;  importunate  begging  Moslems  beset 
us ;  all  along  the  route  we  encountered  shabbincss  and  squalor. 
The  rural  sweetness  and  peace  that  we  associate  with  this  dear 
mount  appear  to  have  been  worn  away  centuries  ago.  We  did 
not  expect  too  much,  but  we  were  not  prepared  for  such  a  shabby 


NEIGHBORHOODS    OF  JERUSALEM.  75 

show-place.  If  we  could  sweep  away  all  the  filthy  habitations  and 
hideous  buildings  on  the  hill,  and  leave  it  to  nature,  or,  indeed, 
convert  the  surface  into  a  well-ordered  garden,  the  spot  would  be 
one  of  the  most  attractive  in  the  world. 

We  hoped  that  Avhen  we  reached  the  summit  we  should  come  into 
an  open,  green,  and  shady  place,  free  from  the  disagreeable  pres- 
ence of  human  greed  and  all  the  artificiality  that  interposed  itself 
between  us  and  the  sentiment  of  the  place.  But  the  traveller  need 
not  expect  that  in  Palestine.  Everything  is  staked  out  and  made 
a  show  of.  Arrived  at  the  summit,  we  could  see  little  or  nothing  ; 
it  is  crowned  with  the  dilapidated  Chapel  of  the  Ascension.  We 
entered  a  dirty  court,  where  the  custodian  and  his  family  and  his 
animals  live,  and  from  thence  were  admitted  to  the  church.  In 
the  pavement  is  shown  the  footprint  of  our  ascending  Lord,  al- 
though the  Ascension  was  made  at  Bethany.  We  paid  the  custo- 
dian for  permission  to  see  this  manufactured  scene  of  the  Ascension. 
The  best  point  of  view  to  be  had  here  is  the  old  tower  of  the  de- 
serted convent,  or  the  narrow  passage  to  it  on  the  wall,  or  the  top 
of  the  minaret  near  the  church.  There  is  no  place  on  wall  or 
tower  where  one  can  sit ;  there  is  no  place  anywhere  here  to  sit 
down,  and  in  peace  and  quiet  enjoy  the  magnificent  prospect,  and 
meditate  on  the  most  momentous  event  in  human  history.  We 
snatched  the  view  in  the  midst  of  annoyances.  The  most  minute 
features  of  it  are  known  to  every  one  who  reads.  The  portion  of 
it  I  did  not  seem  to  have  been  long  familiar  with  is  that  to  the 
east,  comprising  the  Jordan  valley,  the  mountains  of  Moab,  and 
the  Dead  Sea. 

Although  this  mount  is  consecrated  by  the  frequent  presence  of 
Christ,  who  so  often  crossed  it  in  going  to  and  from  Bethany,  and 
retired  here  to  meditate  and  to  commune  with  his  loved  folloAvers, 
everything  that  the  traveller  at  present  encounters  on  its  summit 
is  out  of  sympathy  with  his  memory.  We  escaped  from  the  beg- 
gars and  the  showmen,  climbed  some  stone-walls,  and  in  a  rough 
field  near  the  brow  of  the  hill,  in  a  position  neither  comfortable 
nor  private,  but  the  best  that  we  found,  read  the  chief  events  in 
the  life  of  Christ  connected  with  this  mount,  the  triumphal  entry, 
and  the  last  scenes  transacted  on  yonder  hill.     And  we  endeav- 


76  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

ored  to  make  the  divine  man  live  again,  who  so  often  and  so  sor- 
rowfully regarded  the  then  shining  city  of  Zion  from  this  height. 

To  the  south  of  the  church  and  a  little  down  the  hill  is  the  so- 
called  site  of  the  giving  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  I  do  not  know  on 
what  authority  it  is  thus  named.  A  chapel  is  built  to  mark  the 
spot,  and  a  considerable  space  is  enclosed  before  it,  in  which  are 
other  objects  of  interest,  and  these  were  shoAvn  to  us  by  a  pleasant- 
spoken  lady,  who  is  connected  with  the  convent,  and  has  faith 
equal  to  the  demands  of  her  position.  We  first  entered  a  subter- 
ranean vaulted  room,  with  twelve  rough  half-pillars  on  each  side, 
called  the  room  where  the  Apostles  composed  the  creed.  We 
then  passed  into  the  chapel.  Upon  the  four  walls  of  its  arcade 
is  written,  in  great  characters,  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  tldrty-iico 
languages  ;  among  them  the  "  Canadian." 

In  a  little  side  chapel  is  the  tomb  of  Aurelia  de  Bossa,  Priii- 
cesse  de  la  Tour  d'Auvergne,  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  the  lady 
whose  munificence  established  this  chapel  and  executed  the  prayer 
in  so  many  tongues.  Upon  the  side  of  the  tomb  this  fact  of  her 
benevolence  is  announced,  and  the  expectation  is  also  expressed, 
in  French,  that  "  God  will  overwhelm  her  with  blessing  for  ever 
and  ever  for  her  good  deed."  Stretched  upon  the  sarcophagus  is 
a  beautiful  marble  effigy  of  the  princess  ;  the  figure  is  lovely,  the 
face  is  sweet  and  seraphic,  and  it  is  a  perfect  likeness  of  her  lady- 
ship. 

I  do  not  speak  at  random.  I  happen  to  know  that  it  is  a  per- 
fect likeness,  for  a  few  minutes  after  I  saw  it,  I  met  her  in  the 
corridor,  in  a  semi-nunlike  costume,  with  a  heavy  cross  hanging 
by  a  long  gold  chain  at  her  side.  About  her  forehead  was  bound 
a  barbarous  frontlet  composed  of  some  two  hundred  gold  coins, 
and  ornaments  not  unlike  those  worn  by  the  ladies  of  the  ancient 
Egyptians.  This  incongruity  of  costume  made  me  hesitate 
whether  to  recognize  in  this  dazzling  vision  of  womanhootl  a 
priestess  of  Astarte  or  of  Christ.  At  the  farther  door,  Aurelia 
de  Bossa,  Princesse  de  la  Tour  d'Auvergne,  Duchesse  de  Bouil- 
lon, stopped  and  blew  shrilly  a  silver  whistle  which  hung  at  her 
girdle,  to  call  her  straying  poodle,  or  to  summon  a  servant.  In 
the  rear  of  the  chapel  this  lady  lives  in  a  very  pretty  house,  and 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM.  77 

near  it  she  was  building  a  convent  for  Carmelite  nuns.  I  cannot 
but  regard  her  as  the  most  fortunate  of  her  sex.  She  enjoys  not 
only  this  life,  but,  at  the  same  time,  all  the  posthumous  reputa- 
tion that  a  lovely  tomb  and  a  record  of  her  munificence  engraved 
thereon  can  give.  We  sometimes  hear  of,  but  we  seldom  see,  a 
person,  in  these  degenerate  days,  living  in  this  world  as  if  already 
in  the  other. 

We  went  on  over  the  hill  to  Bethany  ;  we  had  climbed  up  by 
the  path  on  which  David  fled  from  Absalom,  and  we  were  to  return 
by  the  road  of  the  Triumphal  Entry.  All  along  the  ridge  we 
enjoyed  a  magnificent  panorama  :  a  blue  piece  of  the  Dead  Sea, 
the  Jordan  plain  extending  far  up  towards  Hermon  with  the 
green  ribbon  of  the  river  winding  through  it,  and  the  long,  even 
range  of  the  Moab  hills,  blue  in  the  distance.  The  prospect  was 
almost  Swiss  in  its  character,  but  it  is  a  mass  of  bare  hiUs,  with 
scarcely  a  tree  except  in  the  immediate  foreground,  and  so  naked 
and  desolate  as  to  make  the  heart  ache ;  it  would  be  entirely  des- 
olate but  for  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky  and  an  atmosphere  that 
bathes  aU  the  great  sweep  of  peaks  and  plains  in  color. 

Bethany  is  a  squalid  hamlet  clinging  to  the  rocky  hillside, 
with  only  one  redeeming  feature  about  it, —  the  prospect.  A  few 
wretched  one-story  huts  of  stone,  and  a  miserable  handful  of 
Moslems,  occupy  this  favorite  home  and  resting-place  of  our 
Lord.  Close  at  hand,  by  the  roadside,  cut  in  the  rock  and 
reached  by  a  steep  descent  of  twenty-six  steps,  is  the  damp  and 
doubtful  tomb  of  Lazarus,  down  into  which  any  one  may  go  for 
half  a  franc  paid  to  the  Moslem  guardian.  The  house  of  Mary 
and  Martha  is  exhibited  among  the  big  rocks  and  fragments  of 
walls  ;  upon  older  foundations  loose  walls  are  laid,  rudely  and 
recently  patched  up  with  cut  stones  in  fragments,  and  pieces  of 
Roman  columns.  The  house  of  Simon  the  leper,  overlooking 
the  whole,  is  a  mere  heap  of  ruins.  It  does  not  matter,  however, 
that  all  these  dwellings  are  modern ;  this  is  Bethany,  and  when 
we  get  away  from  its  present  wretchedness  we  remember  only  that 
we  have  seen  the  very  place  that  Christ  loved. 

We  returned  along  the  highway  of  the  Entry  slowly,  pausing  to 
identify  the  points  of  that  memorable  progress,  up  to  the  crest 


78  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

where  Jerusalem  broke  upon  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  and  whence 
the  procession,  coming  round  the  curve  of  the  hill,  would  have 
the  full  view  of  the  city.  He  who  rides  that  way  to-day  has  a 
grand  prospect.  One  finds  Jerusalem  most  poetic  when  seen  from 
Olivet,  and  Olivet  most  lovely  when  seen  from  the  distance  of  the 
city  walls. 

At  the  foot  of  the  descent  we  turned  and  entered  the  enclosure 
of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  Three  stone-wall  enclosures  here 
claim  to  be  the  real  garden ;  one  is  owned  by  tlie  Greeks,  another 
by  the  Armenians,  the  third  by  the  Latins.  We  chose  the  last, 
as  it  is  the  largest  and  pleasantest ;  perhaps  the  garden,  which 
was  certainly  in  this  vicinity,  once  included  them  all.  After  some 
delay  we  were  admitted  by  a  small  door  in  the  wall,  and  taken 
charge  of  by  a  Latin  monk,  whose  young  and  sweet  face  was  not 
out  of  sympathy  with  the  place.  The  garden  contains  a  few  aged 
olive-trees,  and  some  small  plots  of  earth,  fenced  about  and  se- 
cured by  locked  gates,  in  which  flowers  grow.  The  guardian 
gave  us  some  falling  roses,  and  did  what  he  could  to  relieve  the 
scene  of  its  artificial  appearance ;  around  the  wall,  inside,  are  the 
twelve  stations  of  the  Passion,  in  the  usual  tawdry  style. 

But  the  birds  sang  sweetly  in  the  garden,  the  flowers  of  spring 
were  blooming,  and,  hemmed  in  by  the  high  Avail,  we  had  some 
moments  of  solemn  peace,  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  a  Moslem 
darabooka  drum  throbbing  near  at  hand.  Desecrated  as  this  spot 
is,  and  made  cheap  by  the  petty  creations  of  superstition,  one  can- 
not but  feel  the  awful  significance  of  the  place,  and  the  weight  of 
history  crowding  upon  him,  Avhere  battles  raged  for  a  thousand 
years,  and  where  the  greatest  victory  of  all  was  won  when  Christ 
commanded  Peter  to  put  up  his  sword.  Near  hei'e  Titus  formed 
his  colunms  which  stormed  the  walls  and  captured  the  heroic  city 
after  its  houses,  and  all  this  valley  itself,  were  filled  with  Jewish 
dead ;  but  all  this  is  as  nothing  to  the  event  of  that  awful  night 
when  the  servants  of  the  high-priest  led  away  the  unresisting 
Lord. 

It  is  this  event,  and  not  any  other,  that  puts  an  immeasurable 
gulf  between  this  and  all  other  cities,  and  perhaps  this  difference 
is   more   felt   the   farther  one  is  from  Jerusalem.     The   visitor 


NEIGHBORHOODS    OF   JERUSALEM.  79 

expects  too  mucli ;  he  is  unreasonably  impatient  of  the  contrast 
between  the  mean  appearance  of  the  theatre  and  the  great  events 
that  have  been  enacted  on  it ;  perhaps  he  is  not  prepared  for  the 
ignorance,  the  cupidity,  the  credulity,  the  audacious  impostures 
under  Christian  names,  on  the  spot  where  Christianity  was  born. 

When  one  has  exhausted  the  stock  sights  of  Jerusalem,  it  is 
probably"  the  dullest,  least  entertaining  city  of  the  Orient ;  I  mean, 
in  itself,  for  its  pilgrims  and  its  religious  fetes,  in  the  spring  of 
the  year,  offer  always  some  novelties  to  the  sight-seer ;  and,  be- 
sides, there  is  a  certain  melancholy  pleasure  to  be  derived  from 
roaming  about  outside  the  walls,  enveloped  in  a  historic  illusion 
that  colors  and  clothes  the  nakedness  of  the  landscape. 

The  chief  business  of  the  city  and  the  region  seems  to  be  the 
manufacture  of  religious  playthings  for  the  large  children  who 
come  here.  If  there  is  any  factory  of  relics  here  I  did  not  see  it. 
Nor  do  I  know  whether  the  true  cross  has  still  the  power  of 
growing,  which  it  had  in  the  fourth  century,  to  renew  itself  under 
the  constant  demand  for  pieces  of  it.  I  did  not  go  to  see  the 
place  where  the  tree  grew  of  which  it  was  made ;  the  exact  spot 
is  shown  in  a  Greek  convent  about  a  mile  and  a  half  Avest  of  the 
city.  The  tree  is  said  to  have  been  planted  by  Abraham  and 
Noah.  This  is  evidently  an  error;  it  may  have  been  planted  by 
Adam  and  watered  by  Noah. 

There  is  not  much  trade  in  antiquities  in  the  city;  the  shops 
offer  little  to  tempt  the  curiosity-hunter.  Copper  coins  of  the 
Eoman  period  abound,  and  are  constantly  turned  up  in  the  fields 
outside  the  city,  most  of  them  battered  and  defaced  beyond  recog- 
nition. Jewish  mites  are  plenty  enough,  but  the  silver  shekel 
would  be  rare  if  the  ingenious  Jews  did  not  keep  counterfeits  on 
hand.  The  tourist  is  waited  on  at  his  hotel  by  a  few  patient  and 
sleek  sharks  with  cases  of  cheap  jewelry  and  doubtful  antiques, 
and  if  he  seeks  tht  shops  of  the  gold  and  silver  bazaars  he  will 
find  little  more.  I  will  not  say  that  he  will  not  now  and  then 
pick  up  a  piece  of  old  pottery  that  has  made  the  journey  from 
Central  Asia,  or  chance  upon  a  singular  stone  with  a  talismanic 
inscription.  The  hope  that  he  may  do  so  carries  the  traveller 
through  a  great  many  Eastern  slums.     The  chief  shops,  how- 


80  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

ever,  are  those  of  trinkets  manufactured  for  the  pilgrims,  of  olive- 
wood,  ivory,  bone,  camels'  teeth,  and  all  manner  of  nuts  and 
seeds.  There  are  more  than  fifty  sorts  of  beads,  strung  for  pro- 
fane use  or  arranged  for  rosaries,  and  some  of  them  have  pathetic 
names,  like  "  Job's  tears."  Jenisalem  is  entitled  to  be  called  the 
City  of  Beads. 

There  is  considerable  activity  in  Jewish  objects  that  'are  old 
and  rather  unclean ;  and  I  think  I  discovered  something  like  an 
attempt  to  make  a  "  corner  "  in  phylacteries,  that  is,  in  old  ones, 
for  the  new  are  made  in  excess  of  the  demand.  If  a  person  de- 
sires to  carry  home  a  phylactery  to  exhibit  to  his  Sunday  school, 
in  illustration  of  the  religion  of  the  Jews,  he  wants  one  that  has 
been  a  long  time  in  use.  I  do  not  suppose  it  possible  that  the 
education  of  any  other  person  is  as  deficient  as  mine  was  in  the 
matter  of  these  ornamental  aids  in  worship.  But  if  there  is  one, 
this  description  is  for  him  :  the  phylactery,  common  size,  is  a 
leathern  box  about  an  inch  and  a  half  square,  with  two  narrow 
straps  of  leather,  about  three  feet  long,  sewed  to  the  bottom 
corners.  The  box  contains  a  parchment  roll  of  sacred  writing. 
When  the  worshipper  performs  his  devotions  in  the  synagogue,  he 
binds  one  of  the  phylacteries  about  his  left  arm  and  the  other 
about  his  head,  so  that  the  little  box  has  something  of  the  appear- 
ance of  a  leathern  horn  sprouting  out  of  his  forehead.  Phylac- 
teries are  worn  only  in  the  synagogue,  and  in  this  respect  differ 
from  the  greasy  leathern  talismans  of  the  Nubians,  which  contain 
scraps  from  the  Koran,  and  are  never  taken  off.  Whatever  sig- 
nificance the  phylactery  once  had  to  the  Jew  it  seems  now  to  have 
lost,  since  he  is  willing  to  make  it  an  article  of  merchandise. 
Perhaps  it  is  poverty  that  compels  him  also  to  sell  his  ancient 
scriptures  ;  parchment  rolls  of  favorite  books,  such  as  Esther,  that 
are  some  centuries  old,  are  occasionally  to  be  bought,  and  new 
rolls,  deceitfully  doctored  into  an  appearance  of  antiquity,  are 
offered  freely. 

A  few  years  ago  the  antiquarian  world  was  put  into  a  ferment 
by  what  was  called  the  "  Shcepira  collection,"  a  large  quantity  of 
clay  pottery,  —  gods,  votive  offerings,  images,  jars,  and  other  ves- 
sels, —  with  inscriptions  in  unknown  characters,  which  was  said 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM.  81 

to  have  been  dug  iip  in  the  land  of  Moab,  beyond  the  Jordan,  and 
was  expected  to  throw  great  light  upon  certain  passages  of  Jewish 
history,  and  especially  upon  the  religion  of  the  heathen  who  occu- 
pied Palestine  at  the  time  of  the  conquest.  The  collection  was 
sent  to  Berlin;  some  eminent  German  moans  pronounced  it  genu- 
iuQ;  nearly  all  the  English  scholars  branded  it  as  an  impudent 
imposture.  Two  collections  of  the  articles  have  been  sent  to  Ber- 
lin, where  they  are  stored  out  of  sight  of  the  public  generally,  and 
Mr.  Shoepira  has  made  a  third  collection,  which  he  still  retains. 

Mr.  Shoepira  is  a  Hebrew  antiquarian  and  bookseller,  of  some- 
what eccentric  manners,  but  an  enthusiast.  He  makes  the  im- 
pression of  a  man  who  believes  in  his  discoveries,  and  it  is  gener- 
ally thought  in  Jerusalem  that  if  his  collection  is  a  forgery,  he 
himself  is  imposed  on.  The  account  which  he  gives  of  the  places 
where  the  images  and  utensils  were  found  is  anything  but  clear 
or  definite.  We  are  required  to  believe  that  they  have  been  dug 
up  in  caves  at  night  and  by  stealth,  and  at  the  peril  of  the  lives  of 
the  discoverers,  and  that  it  is  not  safe  to  visit  these  caves  in  the 
daytime  on  account  of  the  Bedaween.  The  fresh-baked  appearance 
of  some  of  the  articles  is  admitted,  and  it  is  said  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  roast  them  to  prevent  their  crumbling  when  exposed  to 
the  air.  Our  theory  in  regard  to  these  singular  objects  is  that  a 
few  of  those  first  shown  were  actually  discovered,  and  that  all  the 
remainder  have  been  made  in  imitation  of  them.  Of  the  charac- 
ters (or  alphabet)  of  the  inscriptions,  Mr.  Shoepira  says  he  has 
determined  twenty -three ;  sixteen  of  these  are  Phoenician,  and  the 
others,  his  critics  say,  are  meaningless.  All  the  objects  are  ex- 
ceedingly rude  and  devoid  of  the  slightest  art ;  the  images  are 
many  of  them  indecent ;  the  jars  are  clumsy  in  shape,  but  the  in- 
scriptions are  put  on  with  some  skill.  The  figures  are  supposed 
to  have  been  votive  offerings,  and  the  jars  either  memorial  or  se- 
pulchral urns. 

The  hideous  collection  appeared  to  me  std  generis,  although 
some  of  the  images  resemble  the  rudest  of  those  called  Phoenician 
which  General  di  Cesnola  unearthed  in  Cyprus.  Without  merit, 
they  seem  to  belong  to  a  rude  age  rather  than  to  be  the  inartistic 
product  of  this  age.  That  is,  supposing  them  to  be  forgeries,  I 
4*  F 


82  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

cannot  see  liow  these  figures  could  be  conceived  by  a  modern 
man,  who  was  capable  of  inventing  a  fraud  of  this  sort.  He 
would  have  devised  something  better,  at  least  something  less  sim- 
ple, something  that  would  have  somewhere  betrayed  a  little 
modern  knowledge  and  feeling.  All  the  objects  have  the  same 
barbarous  tone,  a  kind  of  character  that  is  distinct  from  their 
rudeness,  and  the  same  images  and  designs  are  repeated  over  and 
over  again.  This  gives  color  to  the  theory  that  a  few  genuine 
pieces  of  Moabite  pottery  Avere  found,  which  gave  the  idea  for  a 
large  manufacture  of  them.  And  yet,  there  are  people  who  see 
these  things,  and  visit  all  the  holy  places,  and  then  go  away  and 
lament  that  there  are  no  manufactories  in  Jerusalem. 

Jerusalem  attracts  while  it  repels ;  and  both  it  and  all  Palestine 
exercise  a  spell  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  consideration  they  had 
in  the  ancient  world.  The  student  of  the  mere  facts  of  history, 
especially  if  his  studies  were  made  in  Jerusalem  itself,  would  be 
at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  place  that  the  Holy  City  occupies  in 
the  thought  of  the  modern  world,  and  the  importance  attached  to 
the  history  of  the  handful  of  people  who  made  themselves  a  home 
in  this  rocky  country.  The  Hebrew  nation  itself,  during  the  lit- 
tle time  it  was  a  nation,  did  not  play  a  part  in  Oriental  affairs  at 
all  commensurate  with  its  posthumous  reputation.  It  was  not 
one  of  the  great  kingdoms  of  antiquity,  and  in  that  theatre  of 
war  and  conquest  which  spread  from  Ethiopia  to  the  Caspian  Sea, 
it  was  scarcely  an  appreciable  force  in  the  great  drama. 

The  country  the  Hebrews  occupied  was  small ;  they  never  con- 
quered or  occupied  the  whole  of  the  Promised  Land,  which  ex- 
tended from  the  Mediterranean  Sea  to  the  Arabian  plain,  from 
Hamath  to  Sinai.  Their  territory  in  actual  possession  reached 
only  from  Dan  to  Beersheba.  The  coast  they  never  subdued ; 
the  Philistines,  who  came  from  Crete  and  grew  to  be  a  great 
people  in  the  plain,  held  the  lower  portion  of  Palestine  on  the  sea, 
and  the  Phoenicians  the  upper.  Except  during  a  brief  period  in 
their  history,  the  Jews  were  confined  to  the  hill-country.  Only 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  reign  of  David  and  two  thirds  of  that 
of  Solomon  did  the  Jewish  kingdom  take  on  the  proportions  of  a 
great  state.     David  extended  the  Israelitish  power  from  the  Gulf 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM.  83 

of  Akaba  to  the  Euphrates ;  Damascus  paid  him  tribute ;  he  oc- 
cupied the  cities  of  his  old  enemies,  the  Philistines,  but  the  king- 
dom of  Tyre,  still  in  the  possession  of  Hiram,  marked  the  limit 
of  Jewish  sway  in  that  direction.  This  period  of  temtorial  con- 
sequence was  indeed  brief.  Before  Solomon  was  in  his  grave, 
the  conquests  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  father  began  to  slip  from 
his  hand.  The  life  of  the  Israelites  as  a  united  nation,  as  any- 
thing but  discordant  and  warring  tribes,  after  the  death  of  Joshua, 
is  all  included  in  the  reigns  of  David  and  Solomon,  —  perhaps 
sixty  or  seventy  years. 

The  Israelites  were  essentially  highlanders.  Some  one  has 
noticed  their  resemblance  to  the  Scotch  Highlanders  in  modes  of 
Avarfare.  In  fighting  they  aimed  to  occupy  the  heights.  They 
descended  into  the  plain  reluctantly ;  they  made  occasional  forays 
into  the  lowlands,  but  their  hills  were  their  strength,  as  the  Psalm- 
ist said ;  and  they  found  security  among  their  crags  and  secluded 
glens  from  the  agitations  which  shook  the  great  empires  of  the 
Eastern  Avorld.  Invasions,  retreats,  pursuits,  the  advance  of  de- 
vouring hosts  or  the  flight  of  panic-stricken  masses,  for  a  long 
time  passed  by  their  ridge  of  countiy  on  either  side,  along  the 
Mediteri'anean  or  through  the  land  of  Moab.  They  were  out  of 
the  track  of  Oriental  commerce  as  well  as  of  war.  So  removed 
were  they  from  participation  in  the  stirring  afi'airs  of  their  era  that 
they  seem  even  to  have  escaped  the  omnivorous  Egyptian  conquer- 
ors. For  a  long  period  conquest  passed  them  by,  and  it  was  not 
till  their  accumulation  of  wealth  tempted  the  avarice  of  the  great 
Asiatic  powers  that  they  were  involved  in  the  conflicts  which 
finally  destroyed  them.  The  small  kingdom  of  Judah,  long  after 
that  of  Israel  had  been  utterly  swept  away,  owed  its  continuance 
of  life  to  its  very  defensible  position.  Solomon  left  Jerusalem  a 
strong  city,  w^ell  supplied  with  water,  and  capable  of  sustaining  a 
long  siege,  while  the  rugged  countiy  around  it  off'ered  little  com- 
fort to  a  besieging  army. 

For  a  short  time  David  made  the  name  of  Israel  a  power  in  the 
world,  and  Solomon,  inheriting  his  reputation,  added  the  triumphs 
of  commerce  to  those  of  conquest.  By  a  judicious  heathen  alli- 
ance with  Hiram  of  Tyi'e  he  was  able  to  build  vessels  on  the  Red 


84  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Sea  and  man  them  witli  Phoenician  sailors,  for  voyages  to  India 
and  Ceylon ;  and  he  was  admitted  by  Hiram  to  a  partnership  in 
his  trading  adventures  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  But  these  are 
only  episodes  in  the  Jewish  career;  the  nation's  part  in  Oriental 
history  is  comparatively  insignificant  until  the  days  of  their  great 
calamities.  How  much  attention  its  heroism  and  suffering  at- 
tracted at  that  time  we  do  not  know. 

Though  the  Israelites  during  their  occupation  of  the  hiU-coun- 
try  of  Palestine  were  not  concerned  in  the  great  dynastic  strug- 
gles of  the  Orient,  they  were  not,  however,  at  peace.  Either  the 
tribes  were  fighting  among  themselves  or  they  were  involved  in 
sanguinary  fights  with  the  petty  heathen  chiefs  about  them.  We 
get  a  lively  picture  of  the  habits  of  the  time  in  a  sentence  in  the 
second  book  of  Samuel :  "  And  it  came  to  pass,  after  the  year  was 
expired,  at  the  time  when  kings  go  forth  to  battle,  that  David 
sent  Joab  and  his  sei-vants  with  him,  and  all  Israel ;  and  they 
destroyed  the  children  of  Ammon,  and  besieged  Rabbah."  It 
was  a  pretty  custom.  In  that  season  when  birds  pair  and  build 
their  nests,  when  the  sap  mounts  in  the  trees  and  travellers  long 
to  go  into  far  countries,  kings  felt  a  noble  impulse  in  their  veins 
to  go  out  and  fight  other  kings.  But  this  primitive  simplicity 
was  mingled  mth  shocking  barbarity ;  David  once  put  his  cap- 
tives under  the  saw,  and  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  the  Israel- 
ites were  more  moved  by  sentiments  of  pity  and  compassion  than 
their  heathen  neighbors.  There  was  occasionally,  however,  a 
grim  humor  in  their  cruelty.  When  Judah  captured  King  Adoni- 
bezek,  in  Bezek,  he  cut  off  his  gi'eat  toes  and  his  thumbs.  Adoni- 
bezek,  who  could  appreciate  a  good  thing,  accepted  the  mutilation 
in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  offered,  and  said  that  he  had  himself 
served  seventy  kings  in  that  fashion ;  "  threescore  and  ten  kings, 
having  their  thumbs  and  great  toes  cut  off,  gathered  their  meat 
under  my  table." 

From  the  death  of  Joshua  to  the  fall  of  Samaria,  the  history  of 
the  Jews  is  largely  a  history  of  civil  war.  From  about  seven 
hundred  years  before  Christ,  Palestine  was  essentially  a  satrapy 
of  the  Assyrian  kings,  as  it  was  later  to  become  one  of  the  small 
provinces  of  the  Roman  empire.     At  the  time  when  Sennacherib 


NEIGHBORHOODS    OF  JERUSALEM.  85 

was  waiting  before  Jerusalem  for  Hezekiah  to  purchase  his  with- 
drawal by  stripping  the  gold  from  the  doors  of  the  Temple,  the 
foundations  of  a  city  were  laid  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  which 
was  to  extend  its  sway  over  the  known  world,  to  whose  dominion 
the  utmost  power  of  Jerusalem  was  only  a  petty  sovereignty,  and. 
which  was  destined  to  rival  Jerusalem  itself  as  the  spiritual  capi- 
tal of  the  earth. 

If  we  do  not  find  in  the  military  power  or  territorial  conse- 
quence of  the  Jews  an  explanation  of  their  influence  in  the  mod- 
ern world,  still  less  do  we  find  it  in  any  faithfulness  to  a  spiritual 
religion,  the  knowledge  of  which  was  their  chief  distinction  among 
the  tribes  about  them.  Their  lapses  from  the  worship  of  Jeho- 
vah were  so  frequent,  and  of  such  long  duration,  that  their  re- 
turns to  the  worship  of  the  true  God  seem  little  more  than  breaks 
in  their  practice  of  idolatry.  And  these  spasmodic  returns  were 
due  to  calamities,  and  fears  of  worse  judgments.  Solomon  sanc- 
tioned by  national  authority  gross  idolatries  which  had  been  long 
practised.  At  his  death,  ten  of  the  tribes  seceded  from  the  do- 
minion of  Judah  and  set  up  a  kingdom  in  Avhich  idolatry  was  , 
made  and  remained  the  state  religion,  until  the  ten  tribes  van- 
ished from  the  theatre  of  history.  The  kingdom  of  Israel,  in 
order  to  emphasize  its  separation  from  that  of  Judah,  set  up  the 
worship  of  Jehovah  in  the  image  of  a  golden  calf.  Against  this 
state  religion  of  image-worship  the  prophets  seem  to  have  thought 
it  in  vain  to  protest ;  they  contented  themselves  with  battling 
against  the  more  gross  and  licentious  idolatries  of  Baal  and  Ash- 
taroth ;  and  Israel  always  continued  the  idol-worship  established 
by  Jeroboam.  The  worship  of  Jehovah  was  the  state  religion  of 
the  little  kingdom  of  Judah,  but  during  the  period  of  its  exist- 
ence, before  the  Captivity,  I  think  that  only  four  of  its  kings  were 
not  idolaters.  The  people  were  constantly  faUing  away  into  the 
heathenish  practices  of  their  neighbors. 

If  neither  territorial  consequence  nor  religious  steadfastness 
gave  the  Jews  rank  among  the  great  nations  of  antiquity,  they 
would  equally  fail  of  the  consideration  they  now  enjoy  but  for  one 
thing,  and  that  is,  after  all,  the  chief  and  enduring  product  of  any 
nationality  ;  we  mean,  of  course,  its  literature.     It  is  by  that,  that 


86 


IN   THE   LEVANT. 


the  little  kingdoms  of  Judah  and  Israel  hold  their  sway  over  the 
world.  It  is  that  which  invests  ancient  Jerusalem  with  its  charm 
and  dignity.  Not  what  the  Jews  did,  but  the  songs  of  their 
poets,  the  warnings  and  lamentations  of  their  prophets,  the  touch- 
ing tales  of  their  story-tellers,  draw  us  to  Jerusalem  by  the  most 
powerful  influences  that  affect  the  human  mind.  And  most  of 
this  unequalled  literature  is  the  product  of  seasons  of  turbulence, 
passion,  and  insecurity.  Except  the  Proverbs  and  Song  of  Solo- 
mon, and  such  pieces  as  the  poem  of  Job  and  the  story  of  Euth, 
which  seem  to  be  the  outcome  of  literary  leisure,  the  Hebrew 
wi'itings  were  all  the  offspring  of  exciting  periods.  David  com- 
posed his  Psalms  —  the  most  marvellous  interpreters  of  every 
human  aspiration,  exaltation,  want,  and  passion  —  with  his  sword 
in  his  hand;  and  the  prophets  always  appear  to  ride  upon  a 
whirlwind.  The  power  of  Jerusalem  over  the  world  is  as  truly  a 
literary  one  as  that  of  Athens  is  one  of  art.  That  literature  was 
unknown  to  the  ancients,  or  unappreciated  :  otheraase  contempo- 
rary history  would  have  considered  its  creators  of  more  conse- 
quence than  it  did. 

We  speak,  we  have  been  speaking,  of  the  Jerusalem  before  our 
era,  and  of  the  interest  it  has  independent  of  the  great  event 
which  is,  after  all,  its  chief  claim  to  immortal  estimation.  It  be- 
comes sacred  ground  to  us  because  there,  in  Bethlehem,  Christ 
was  born ;  because  here  —  not  in  these  streets,  but  upon  this 
soil  —  he  walked  and  talked  and  taught  and  ministered;  because 
upon  Olivet,  yonder,  he  often  sat  with  his  disciples,  and  here, 
somewhere,  —  it  matters  not  where,  —  he  suffered  death  and  con- 
quered death. 

This  is  the  scene  of  these  transcendent  events.  We  say  it  to 
ourselves  while  we  stand  here.  We  can  clearly  conceive  it  when 
we  are  at  a  distance.  But  with  the  actual  Jerusalem  of  to-day 
before  our  eyes,  its  naked  desolation,  its  superstition,  its  squalor, 
its  vivid  contrast  to  what  we  conceive  should  be  the  City  of  our 
King,  we  iind  it  easier  to  feel  that  Christ  was  born  in  New  Eng- 
land than  in  Judaea. 


GOING  DOWN  TO  JEEICHO. 

IT  is  on  a  lovely  spring  morning  that  we  set  out  through  the 
land  of  Benjamin  to  go  down  among  the  thieves  of  Jericho, 
and  to  the  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea.  For  protection  against  the 
thieves  we  take  some  of  them  with  us,  since  you  cannot  in  these 
days  rely  upon  finding  any  good  Samaritans  there. 

For  some  days  Abd-el-Atti  has  been  in  mysterious  diplomatic 
relations  with  the  robbers  of  the  wilderness,  who  live  in  Jeru- 
salem, and  farm  out  their  territory.  "  Thim  is  gi'eat  rascals," 
says  the  dragoman ;  and  it  is  solely  on  that  account  that  we  seek 
their  friendship  :  the  real  Bedawee  is  never  known  to  go  back 
on  his  word  to  the  traveller  who  trusts  him,  so  long  as  it  is  more 
profitable  to  keep  it  than  to  break  it.  We  ai'e  imder  the  escort 
of  the  second  sheykh,  who  shares  with  the  first  sheykh  the  rule 
of  all  the  Bedaween  who  patrol  the  extensive  territory  from  He- 
bron to  the  fords  of  the  Jordan,  including  Jerusalem,  Bethle- 
hem, Mar  Saba,  and  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  these  rulers 
would  have  been  called  kings  in  the  old  time,  and  the  second 
sheykh  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  first  that  the  Caesar  did  to 
the  Augustus  in  the  Roman  Empire. 

Our  train  is  assembled  in  the  little  market-place  opposite  the 
hotel,  or  rather  it  is  assembling,  for  horses  and  donkeys  are  slow 
to  arrive,  saddles  are  wanting,  the  bridles  are  broken,  and  the 
unpunctuality  and  shiftlessness  of  the  East  manifest  themselves. 
Abd-el-Atti  is  in  fierce  altercation  with  a  Koorland  nobleman 
about  a  horse,  which  you  would  not  say  would  be  likely  to  be  a 
bone  of  contention  with  anybody.     They  are  both  endeavoring 


88  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

to  mount  at  once.  Friends  are  backing  each  combatant,  and  the 
air  is  thick  with  curses  in  guttural  German  and  maledictions  in 
shrill  Arabic.     Unfortunately  I  am  appealed  to. 

"  What  for  this  Dutchman,  he  take  my  horse  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  he  hired  it  first  ?  " 

"  P'aps  not.  I  make  bargain  for  him  with  the  owner  day  be- 
fore yesterday." 

"  I  have  become  dis  pferd  for  four  days,"  cries  the  Baron. 

There  seems  to  be  no  reason  to  doubt  the  Baron's  word  ;  he 
has  ridden  the  horse  to  Bethlehem,  and  become  accustomed  to  his 
jolts,  and  no  doubt  has  the  prior  lien  on  the  animal.  The  owner 
has  let  him  to  both  parties,  a  thing  that  often  happens  when  the 
second  comer  offers  a  piastre  more.  Another  horse  is  sent  for, 
and  we  mount  and  begin  to  disentangle  ourselves  from  the 
crowd.  It  is  no  easy  matter,  especially  for  the  ladies.  Our  o^vn 
baggage-mules  head  in  every  dii'ection.  Donkeys  laden  with 
mountains  of  brushwood  push  through  the  throng,  scraping  right 
and  left ;  camels  shamble  against  us,  their  contemptuous  noses  in 
the  air,  stretching  their  long  necks  over  our  heads ;  market-women 
from  Bethlehem  scream  at  us  ;  and  greasy  pilgrims  block  our 
way  and  curse  our  horses'  hoofs. 

One  by  one  we  emerge  and  get  into  a  straggling  line,  and  be- 
gin to  comprehend  the  size  of  our  expedition.  Our  dragoman 
has  made  as  extensive  preparations  as  if  we  were  to  be  the  first 
to  occupy  Gilgal  and  Jericho,  and  that  portion  of  the  Promised 
Land.  We  are  equipped  equally  well  for  fighting  and  for  fam- 
ine. A  party  of  Syrians,  who  desire  to  make  the  pilgrimage  to 
the  Jordan,  have  asked  permission  to  join  us,  in  order  to  share 
the  protection  of  our  sheykh,  and  they  add  both  picturesqueness 
and  strength  to  the  grand  cavalcade  which  clatters  out  of  Jaffa 
Gate  and  sweeps  round  the  city  wall.  Heaven  keep  us  from  un- 
due pride  in  our  noble  appearance  ! 

Perhaps  our  train  would  impress  a  spectator  as  somewhat 
mixed,  and  he  would  be  unable  to  determine  the  order  of  its 
march.  It  is  true  that  the  horses  and  the  donkeys  and  the 
mules  all  have  different  rates  of  speed,  and  that  the  Syrian  horse 
has  only  two  gaits,  —  a  run  and  a  slow  walk.     As  soon  as  we 


GOING  DOWN   TO   JERICHO.  89 

gain  the  freedom  of  the  open  country,  these  differences  develop. 
The  ambitious  dragomen  and  the  warlike  sheykh  put  their  horses 
into  a  run  and  scour  over  the  hills,  and  tlien  come  charging  back 
upon  us,  like  Don  Quixote  upon  the  flock  of  sheep.  The  Syrians 
imitate  this  madness.  The  other  horses  begin  to  agitate  their 
stiff  legs ;  the  donkeys  stand  stiU  and  protest  by  braying ;  the 
pack-mules  get  temporarily  crazy,  charge  into  us  with  the  pro- 
truding luggage,  and  suddenly  wheel  into  the  ditch  and  stop. 
This  playfulness  is  repeated  in  various  ways,  and  adds  to  the  ex- 
citement without  improving  the  dignity  of  our  march. 

We  are  of  many  nationalities.  There  are  four  Americans,  two 
of  them  ladies.  The  Doctor,  who  is  accustomed  to  ride  the  mus- 
tangs of  New  Mexico  and  the  wild  horses  of  the  Western  deserts, 
endeavors  to  excite  a  spirit  of  emulation  in  his  stift-kneed  animal, 
but  with  little  success.  Our  dragoman  is  Egyptian,  a  decidedly 
heavy  weight,  and  sits  his  steed  like  a  pyramid. 

The  sheykh  is  a  young  man,  with  the  treacherous  eye  of  an 
eagle  ;  a  handsome  fellow,  who  rides  a  lean  as  hite  horse,  anything 
but  a  beauty,  and  yet  of  the  famous  Nedjed  breed  from  Mecca. 
This  desert  warrior  wears  red  boots,  white  trousers  and  skirt, 
blue  jacket,  a  yellow  kufiar,  confined  about  the  head  by  a  black 
cord  and  falling  upon  his  shoulders,  has  a  long  rifle  slung  at  his 
back,  an  immense  Damascus  sword  at  his  side,  and  huge  pistols, 
with  carved  and  inlaid  stocks,  in  his  belt.  He  is  a  riding  arsenal 
and  a  visible  fraud,  this  Bedawee  sheykh.  We  should  no  doubt 
be  quite  as  safe  without  him,  and  perhaps  less  liable  to  various 
extortions.  But  on  the  road,  and  from  the  moment  we  set  out, 
we  meet  Bedaween,  single  and  in  squads,  savage-looking  vaga- 
bonds, every  one  armed  with  a  gun,  a  long  knife,  and  pistols 
with  blunderbuss  barrels,  flaring  in  such  a  manner  as  to  scatter 
shot  over  an  acre  of  ground.  These  scarecrows  are  apparently 
paraded  on  the  highway  to  make  travellers  think  it  is  insecure. 
But  I  am  persuaded  that  none  of  them  would  dare  molest  any 
pilgrim  to  the  Jordan. 

Our  allies,  the  Syrians,  please  us  better.  There  is  a  French- 
ified Syrian,  with  his  wife,  from  Mansura,  in  the  Delta  of 
Egypt.      The   Avife   is  a  very  pretty  woman  (would    that   her 


90  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

example  were  more  generally  followed  in  the  East),  with  olive 
complexion,  black  eyes,  and  a  low  forehead;  a  native  of  Sidon. 
She  wears  a  dark  green  dress,  and  a  yellow  kufia  on  her  head, 
and  is  mounted  upon  a  mule,  man-fashion,  but  upon  a  sad- 
dle as  broad  as  a  feather-bed.  Her  husband,  in  semi-Syrian 
costume,  with  top-boots,  carries  a  gun  at  his  back  and  a  frightful 
knife  in  his  belt.  Her  brother,  who  is  from  Sidon,  bears  also  a 
gun,  and  Avears  an  enormous  sword.  Very  pleasant  people  these, 
who  have  armed  themselves  in  the  spirit  of  the  hunter  rather 
than  of  the  warrior,  and  are  as  completely  equipped  for  the  chase 
as  any  Parisian  who  ventures  in  pursuit  of  game  into  any  of  the 
dangerous  thickets  outside  of  Paris. 

The  Sidon  wife  is  accompanied  by  two  servants,  slaves  from 
Soudan,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  each  about  ten  years  old,  —  two  grin- 
ning, comical  monkeys,  who  could  not  by  any  possibility  be  of  the 
slightest  service  to  anybody,  unless  it  is  a  relief  to  their  pretty 
mistress  to  vent  her  ill-humor  upon  their  irresponsible  persons. 
You  could  n't  call  them  handsome,  though  their  skins  are  of 
dazzling  black,  and  their  noses  so  flat  that  you  cannot  see  them 
in  profile.  The  girl  wears  a  silk  gown,  which  reaches  to  her  feet 
and  gives  her  the  quaint  appearance  of  an  old  woman,  and  a 
yellow  vest ;  the  boy  is  clad  in  motley  European  clothes,  bought 
second-hand  with  reference  to  his  growing  up  to  them,  —  upon 
which  event  the  trousers-legs  and  cufi"s  of  his  coat  could  be  turned 
down,  —  and  a  red  fez  contrasting  finely  with  his  black  face. 
They  are  both  mounted  on  a  decrepit  old  horse,  whose  legs  are  like 
sled-stakes,  and  they  sit  astride  on  top  of  a  pile  of  baggage,  beds, 
and  furniture,  with  bottles  and  camp-kettles  jingling  about  them. 
The  girl  sits  behind  the  boy  and  clings  fast  to  his  waist  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  holds  over  their  heads  a  rent 
white  parasol,  to  prevent  any  injury  to  their  jet  complexions. 
When  the  old  baggage-horse  starts  occasionally  into  a  hard  trot, 
they  both  bob  up  and  down,  and  strike  first  one  side  and  then 
the  other,  but  never  together ;  when  one  goes  up  the  otlier  goes 
down,  as  if  they  were  moved  by  difi^erent  springs ;  but  both  show 
their  ivory  and  seem  to  enjoy  themselves.  Heaven  knows  why 
they  should  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Jordan. 


I 


GOING  DOWN  TO  JERICHO.  91 

Our  Abyssinian  servant,  Abdallah,  is  mounted  also  on  a  pack- 
horse,  and  sits  high  in  the  air  amid  bags  and  bundles ;  he  guides 
his  brute  only  by  a  halter,  and  when  the  animal  takes  a  fancy  to 
break  into  a  gallop,  there  is  a  rattling  of  dishes  and  kettles  that 
sets  the  whole  train  into  commotion ;  the  boy's  fez  falls  farther 
than  ever  back  on  his  head,  his  teeth  shine,  and  his  eyes  dance  as 
he  jolts  into  the  midst  of  the  mules  and  excites  a  panic,  Avhicli 
starts  everything  into  friskiness,  waking  up  even  the  Soudan 
party,  which  begins  to  bob  about  and  grin.  There  are  half  a 
dozen  mules  loaded  with  tents  and  bed  furniture ;  the  cook,  and 
the  cook's  assistants,  and  the  sei-vants  of  the  kitchen  and  the 
camp  are  mounted  on  something,  and  the  train  is  attended  be- 
sides by  drivers  and  ostlers,  of  what  nations  it  pleases  Heaven. 
But  this  is  not  all.  We  carry  with  us  two  hunting  dogs,  the 
property  of  the  Syrian.  The  dogs  are  not  for  use ;  they  are  a 
piece  of  ostentation,  like  the  other  portion  of  the  hunting  outfit, 
and  contribute,  as  do  the  Soudan  babies,  to  our  appearance  of 
Oriental  luxury. 

We  straggle  do^ni  through  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  and 
around  the  Mount  of  Olives  to  Bethany  ;  and  from  that  sightly 
slope  our  route  is  spread  before  us  as  if  we  were  looking  upon 
a  map.  It  lies  through  the  "  wilderness  of  Judsea."  We  are 
obliged  to  revise  our  Western  notions  of  a  wilderness  as  a  region 
of  gross  vegetation.  The  Jews  knew  a  wilderness  when  they  saw 
it,  and  how  to  name  it.  You  would  be  interested  to  know  what 
a  person  who  lived  at  Jerusalem,  or  anywhere  along  the  backbone 
of  Palestine,  would  call  a  wilderness.  Nothing  but  the  absolute 
nakedness  of  desolation  could  seem  to  him  dreary.  But  this 
region  must  have  satisfied  even  a  person  accustomed  to  deserts 
and  pastures  of  rocks.  It  is  a  jumble  of  savage  hills  and  jagged 
ravines,  a  land  of  limestone  rocks  and  ledges',  whitish  gray  in 
color,  glaring  in  the  sun,  even  the  stones  wasted  by  age,  relieved 
nowhere  by  a  tree,  or  rejoiced  by  a  single  blade  of  grass.  Wild 
beasts  would  starve  in  it,  the  most  industrious  bird  could  n't 
collect  in  its  length  and  breadth  enough  soft  material  to  make  a 
nest  of;  it  is  what  a  Jew  of  Hebron  or  Jerusalem  or  Uaraah 
would  call  a  "  wilderness  "  !      This  exhausts  the  language  of 


92  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

description.  How  vividly  in  this  desolation  stands  out  the  figure 
of  the  prophet  of  God,  clothed  Avith  camel's  hair  and  with  a 
girdle  of  skin  about  his  loins,  "  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
wildei'ness." 

The  road  is  thronged  with  Jordan  pilgrims.  We  overtake  them, 
they  pass  us,  we  meet  them  in  an  almost  continuous  train.  Most 
of  them  are  peasants  from  Armenia,  from  the  borders  of  the  Black 
Sea,  from  the  Caucasus,  from  Abyssinia.  The  great  mass  are  on 
foot,  trudging  wearily  along  with  their  bedding  and  provisions, 
the  thick-legged  women  carrying  the  heaviest  loads;  occasionally 
you  see  a  pilgrim  asleep  by  the  roadside,  his  pillow  a  stone.  But 
the  travellers  are  by  no  means  all  poor  or  unable  to  hire  means  of 
conveyance,  —  you  would  say  that  Judaea  had  been  exhausted  of 
its  beasts  of  burden  of  all  descriptions  for  this  pilgrimage,  and 
that  even  the  skeletons  had  been  exhumed  to  assist  in  it.  The 
pilgrims  are  mounted  on  sorry  donkeys,  on  wrecks  of  horses,  on 
mules,  sometimes  an  entire  family  on  one  animal.  Now  and  then 
we  encounter  a  "  swell  "  oiitfit,  a  wealthy  Russian  well  mounted 
on  a  richly -caparisoned  horse  and  attended  by  his  servants ;  some 
ride  in  palanquins,  some  in  chairs.  We  overtake  an  English 
party,  the  central  figure  of  which  is  an  elderly  lady,  who  rides  in 
a  sort  of  high  cupboard  slung  on  poles,  and  borne  by  a  mule 
before  and  a  mule  behind;  the  awkward  vehicle  sways  and  tilts 
backwards  and  forwards,  and  the  good  woman  looks  out  of  the 
window  of  her  coop  as  if  she  were  sea-sick  of  the  world.  Some 
ladies,  who  are  unaccustomed  to  horses,  have  arm-chairs  strapped 
upon  the  horses'  backs,  in  which  they  sit.  Now  and  then  two 
chairs  are  strapped  upon  one  horse,  and  the  riders  sit  back  to 
back.  Sometimes  huge  panniers  slung  on  the  sides  of  the  horse 
are  used  instead  of  chairs,  the  passengers  riding  securely  in  them 
without  any  danger  of  falling  out.  It  is  rather  a  pretty  sight 
when  each  basket  happens  to  be  full  of  children.  There  is,  in- 
deed, no  end  to  the  strange  outfits  and  the  odd  costumes.  Nearly 
all  the  women  who  are  mounted  at  all  aiie  perched  upon  the  top 
of  all  their  household  goods  and  furniture,  astride  of  a  bed  on  the 
summit.  There  approaches  a  horse  which  seems  to  have  a  sofa  on 
its  back,  upon  which  four  persons  are  seated  in  a  row,  as  much  at 


GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO.  93 

ease  as  if  at  home ;  it  is  not,  liowever,  a  sofa ;  four  baskets  have 
been  ingeniously  fastened  into  a  frame,  so  that  four  persons  can 
ride  in  them  abreast.  This  is  an  admirable  contrivance  for  the 
riders,  much  better  than  riding  in  a  row  lengthwise  on  the  horse, 
when  the  one  in  front  hides  the  view  from  those  behind. 

Diverted  by  this  changing  spectacle,  we  descend  from  Bethany. 
At  first  there  are  wild-flowers  by  the  wayside  and  in  the  fields, 
and  there  is  a  flush  of  verdure  on  the  hills,  all  of  which  disappears 
later.  The  sky  is  deep  blue  and  cloudless,  the  air  is  exhilarating ; 
it  is  a  day  for  enjoyment,  and  everything  and  everybody  we  en- 
counter are  in  a  joyous  mood,  and  on  good  terms  with  the  world. 
The  only  unamiable  exception  is  the  horse  with  which  I  have  been 
favored.  He  is  a  stocky  little  stallion,  of  good  shape,  but  ignoble 
breed,  and  the  devil  —  which  is,  I  suppose,  in  the  horse  what  the 
old  Adam  is  in  man  —  has  never  been  cast  out  of  him.  At  first 
I  am  in  love  with  his  pleasant  gait  and  mincing  ways,  but  I  soon 
find  that  he  has  eccentricities  that  require  the  closest  attention  on 
my  part,  and  leave  me  not  a  moment .  for  the  scenery  or  for  bib- 
lical reflections.  The  beast  is  neither  content  to  go  in  front  of 
the  caravan  nor  in  the  rear ;  he  wants  society,  but  the  instant  he 
gets  into  the  crowd  he  lets  his  heels  fly  right  and  left.  After  a 
few  performances  of  this  sort,  and  when  he  has  nearly  broken  the 
leg  of  the  Syrian,  my  company  is  not  desired  any  more  by  any 
one.  No  one  is  willing  to  ride  within  speaking  distance  of  me. 
This  sort  of  horse  may  please  the  giddy  and  thoughtless,  but  he 
is  not  the  animal  for  me.  By  the  time  we  reach  the  fountain  'Ain 
el-Huad,  I  have  quite  enough  of  him,  and  exchange  steeds  with 
the  dragoman,  much  against  the  latter's  fancy;  he  keeps  the  brute 
the  remainder  of  the  day  cantering  over  stones  and  waste  places 
along  the  road,  and  confesses  at  night  that  his  bridle-hand  is  so 
swollen  as  to  be  useless. 

We  descend  a  steep  hill  to  this  fountain,  which  flows  from  a 
broken  Saracenic  arch,  and  waters  a  valley  that  is  altogether  stony 
and  unfertile  except  in  some  patches  of  green.  It  is  a  general 
halting-place  for  travellers,  and  presents  a  most  animated  appear- 
ance when  we  an-ive.  Horses,  mides,  and  men  are  struggling  to- 
gether about  the  fountain  to  slake  their  thirst ;  but  there  is  no 


94  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

trough  nor  any  pool,  and  the  only  mode  to  get  the  water  is  to 
catch  it  in  the  mouth  as  it  drizzles  from  the  hole  in  the  arch.  It 
is  difficult  for  a  horse  to  do  this,  and  the  poor  things  are  beside 
themselves  with  thirst.  Near  by  are  some  stone  ruins  in  which 
a  man  and  woman  have  set  up  a  damp  coifee-shop,  sherbet-shop, 
and  smoking  station.  Prom  them  I  borrow  a  shallow  dish,  and 
succeed  ih  getting  water  for  my  horse,  an  experiment  which  seems 
to  surprise  all  nations.  The  shop  is  an  open  stone  shed  with  a 
dirt  floor,  offering  only  stools  to  the  customers  ;  yet  when  the  mot- 
ley crowd  are  seated  in  and  around  it,  sipping  coffee  and  smoking 
the  narghilehs  (water-pipes)  with  an  air  of  leisure  as  if  to-day 
would  last  forever,  you  have  a  scene  of  Oriental  luxury. 

Our  way  lies  down  a  winding  ravine.  The  country  is  exceed- 
ingly rough,  like  the  Wyoming  hills,  but  without  trees  or  verdure. 
The  bed  of  the  stream  is  a  mass  of  rock  in  shelving  ledges ;  aU 
the  rock  in  sight  is  a  calcareous  limestone.  After  an  hour  of  this 
sort  of  secluded  travel  we  ascend  again  and  reach  the  Eed  Khan, 
and  a  scene  still  more  desolate  because  more  extensive.  The 
khan  takes  its  name  from  the  color  of  the  rocks ;  perched  upon 
a  high  ledge  are  the  ruins  of  this  ancient  caravansary,  little  more 
now  than  naked  walls.  We  take  shelter  for  lunch  in  a  natural 
rock  grotto  opposite,  exactly  the  shadow  of  a  rock  longed  for  in 
a  weary  land.  Here  we  spread  our  gay  rugs,  the  servants  un- 
pack the  provision  hampers,  and  we  sit  and  enjoy  the  wide  view 
of  barrenness  and  the  picturesque  groups  of  pilgrims.  The  spot 
is  famous  for  its  excellent  well  of  water.  It  is,  besides,  the  local- 
ity usually  chosen  for  the  scene  of  the  adventure  of  the  man  who 
went  down  to  Jericho  and  fell  among  thieves,  this  being  the  khan 
at  which  he  was  entertained  for  twopence.  We  take  our  siesta 
here,  reflecting  upon  the  great  advance  in  hotel  prices,  and  en- 
deavoring to  re-create  something  of  that  past  when  this  was  the 
highway  between  great  Jerusalem  and  the  teeming  plain  of  the 
Jordan.  The  Syro-Phcenician  woman  smoked  a  narghileh,  and, 
looking  neither  into  the  past  nor  the  future,  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
present. 

Prom  this  elevation  we  see  again  the  brown  Jordan  Valley  and 
the  Dead  Sea.     Our  road  is  do^vnward  more  precipitously  than  it 


GOING  DOWN  TO  JERICHO.  95 

has  been  before.  The  rocks  are  tossed  about  turaultuoiisly,  and 
the  hills  are  rent,  but  there  is  no  evidence  of  any  volcanic  action. 
Some  of  the  rock  strata  are  bent,  as  you  see  the  granite  in  the 
White  Mountains,  but  this  peculiarity  disappears  as  we  approach 
nearer  to  the  Jordan.  The  translator  of  M.  Frangois  Lenormant's 
"Ancient  History  of  the  East  "  says  that  "  the  miracles  which  ac- 
companied the  entrance  of  the  Israelites  into  Palestine  seem  such 
as  might  have  been  produced  by  volcanic  agency."  No  doubt 
they  might  have  been  ;  but  this  whole  region  is  absolutely  with- 
out any  appearance  of  volcanic  disturbance. 

As  we  go  on,  we  have  on  our  left  the  most  remarkable  ravine 
in  Palestine;  it  is  in  fact  a  canon  in  the  rocks,  some  five  hundred 
feet  deep,  the  sides  of  which  are  nearly  perpendicular.  At  the 
bottom  of  it  flows  the  brook  Cherith,  finding  its  way  out  into  the 
Jordan  plain.  We  ride  to  the  brink  and  look  over  into  the  abyss. 
It  was  about  two  thousand  seven  hundred  and  eighty-nine  years 
ago,  and  probably  about  this  time  of  the  year  (for  the  brook  went 
dry  shortly  after),  that  Elijah,  having  incurred  the  hostility  of 
Ahab,  who  held  his  luxurious  court  at  Samaria,  by  prophesying 
against  him,  came  over  from  Gilead  and  hid  himself  in  this  ravine. 

"  Down  there,"  explains  Abd-el-Atti,  "  the  prophet  Elijah  fed 
him  the  ravens  forty  days.     Not  have  that  kind  of  ravens  now." 

Unattractive  as  this  abyss  is  for  any  but  a  temporary  summer 
residence,  the  example  of  Elijah  recommended  it  to  a  great  num- 
ber of  people  in  a  succeeding  age.  In  the  wall  of  the  precipice 
are  cut  grottos,  some  of  them  so  high  above  the  bed  of  the 
stream  that  they  are  apparently  inaccessible,  and  not  unlike  the 
tombs  in  the  high  cliffs  along  the  Nile.  In  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries  monks  swarmed  in  all  the  desert  places  of  Egypt  and 
Syria  like  rabbits ;  these  holes,  near  the  scene  of  Elijah's  miracu- 
lous support,  were  the  abodes  of  Christian  hermits,  most  of  whom 
starved  themselves  down  to  mere  skin  and  bones  waiting  for  the 
advent  of  the  crows.  On  the  ledge  above  are  the  ruins  of  ancient 
chapels,  which  would  seem  to  show  that  this  was  a  place  of  some 
resort,  and  that  the  hermits  had  spectators  of  their  self-denial. 
You  might  as  well  be  a  woodchuck  and  sit  in  a  hole  as  a  monk, 
unless  somebody  comes  and  looks  at  you. 


96  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

As  we  advance,  the  Jordan  valley  opens  more  broadly  upon  our 
sight.  At  this  point,  which  is  the  historical  point,  the  scene  of 
the  passage  of  the  Jordan  and  the  first  appearance  of  the  Israel- 
itish  clans  in  the  Promised  Land,  the  valley  is  ten  miles  broad. 
It  is  by  no  means  a  level  plain  ;  from  the  west  range  of  mountains  it 
slopes  to  the  river,  and  the  surface  is  broken  by  hillocks,  ravines, 
and  water-courses.  The  breadth  is  equal  to  that  between  the 
Connecticut  River  at  Hartford  and  the  Talcott  range  of  hills. 
To  the  north  we  have  in  view  the  valley  almost  to  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  and  can  see  the  white  and  round  summit  of  Hermon 
beyond ;  on  the  east  and  on  the  west  the  barren  mountains 
stretch  in  level  lines ;  and  on  the  south  the  blue  waters  of  the 
Dead  Sea  continue  the  valley  between  ranges  of  purple  and  poetic 
rocky  cliffs. 

The  view  is  magnificent  in  extent,  and  plain  and  hills  glow  with 
color  in  this  afternoon  light.  Yonder,  near  the  foot  of  the  eastern 
hills,  we  trace  the  winding  course  of  the  Jordan  by  a  green  belt 
of  trees  and  bushes.  The  river  we  cannot  see,  for  the  "  bottom  " 
of  the  river,  to  use  a  Western  phrase,  from  six  hundred  to  fifteen 
hundred  feet  in  breadth,  is  sunk  below  the  valley  a  hundred  feet 
and  more.  This  bottom  is  periodically  overflowed.  The  general 
aspect  of  the  plain  is  that  of  a  brown  desert,  the  wild  vegetation 
of  which  is  crisped  by  the  scorching  sun.  There  are,  however, 
threads  of  verdure  in  it,  where  the  brook  Cherith  and  the  waters 
from  the  fountain  'Ain  es-Sultan  wander  through  the  neglected 
plain,  and  these  strips  of  green  widen  into  the  thickets  about  the 
little  village  of  Riha,  the  site  of  ancient  Gilgal.  This  valley  is 
naturally  fertile ;  it  may  very  likely  have  been  a  Paradise  of  fruit- 
trees  and  gi-ass  and  sparkling  water  when  the  Jews  looked  down 
upon  it  from  the  mountains  of  Moab  ;  it  certainly  bloomed  in  the 
Roman  occupation ;  and  the  ruins  of  sugar-mills  still  existing 
show  that  the  crusading  Christians  made  the  cultivation  of  the 
sugar-cane  successful  here ;  it  needs  now  only  the  waters  of  the 
Jordan  and  the  streams  from  the  western  foot-hills  directed  by 
iiTigating  ditches  over  its  surface,  moistening  its  ashy  and  nitrous 
soil,  to  become  again  a  fair  and  smiling  land. 

Descending  down   the    stony  and    precipitous   road,  we  turn 


GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO.  97 

north,  still  on  the  slope  of  the  valley.  The  scant  grass  is  already 
crisped  by  the  heat,  the  bushes  are  dry  skeletons.  A  ride  of  a 
few  minutes  brings  us  to  some  artificial  mounds  and  ruins  of 
buildings  upon  the  bank  of  the  brook  C'herith.  The  brickwork 
is  the  fine  reticulated  masonry  such  as  you  see  in  the  remains  of 
Eoman  villas  at  Tusculum.  This  is  the  site  of  Herod's  Jericho, 
the  Jericho  of  the  New  Testament.  But  the  Jei-icho  which  Joshua 
destroyed  and  the  site  of  which  he  cursed,  the  Jericho  which  Hiel 
rebuilt  in  the  days  of  the  wicked  Ahab,  and  where  Elisha  abode 
after  the  translation  of  Elijah,  was  a  half-mile  to  the  north  of  this 
modern  town. 

We  have  some  difficulty  in  fording  the  brook  Cherith,  for  the 
banks  are  precipitous  and  the  stream  is  deep  and  swift ;  those  who 
are  mounted  upon  donkeys  change  them  for  horses,  the  Arab  at- 
tendants wade  in,  guiding  the  stumbling  animals  which  the  ladies 
ride,  the  lumbering  beast  with  the  Soudan  babies  comes  splashing 
in  at  the  wTong  moment,  to  the  peril  of  those  already  in  the  tor- 
rent, and  is  nearly  swept  away ;  the  sheykh  and  the  servants  who 
have  crossed  block  the  narrow  landing;  but  with  infinite  noise  and 
Houndering  about  we  all  come  safely  over,  and  gallop  along  a  sort 
of  plateau,  interspersed  with  thorny  nuhk  and  scraggy  bushes. 
Going  on  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  encountering  cultivated 
spots,  Ave  find  our  tents  already  pitched  on  the  bushy  bank  of  a 
little  stream  that  issues  from  the  fountain  of  'Ain  es-Sultan  a  few 
rods  above.  Near  the  camp  is  a  high  mound  of  rubbish.  This 
is  the  site  of  our  favorite  Jericho,  a  name  of  no  majesty  like  that 
of  Rome,  and  endeared  to  us  by  no  associations  like  Jerusalem, 
but  almost  as  widely  known  as  either ;  probably  even  its  wicked- 
ness would  not  have  preserved  its  reputation,  but  for  the  singular 
incident  that  attended  its  first  destruction.  Jericho  must  have 
been  a  city  of  some  consequence  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the 
Israelites ;  we  gain  an  idea  of  the  civilization  of  its  inhabitants 
from  the  nature  of  the  plunder  that  Joshua  secured;  there  were 
vessels  of  silver  and  of  gold,  and  of  brass  and  iron ;  and  this  was 
over  fourteen  hundred  years  before  Christ. 

Befoi'e  we  descend  to  our  encampment,  we  pause  for  a  survey 
of  this  historic  region.     There,  towards  Jordan,  among  the  trees, 

5  G 


98  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

is  the  site  of  Gilgal  (another  name  that  shares  the  half-whimsical 
reputation  of  Jericho),  where  the  Jews  made  their  first  camp.  The 
king  of  Jericho,  like  his  rojal  cousins  roundabout,  had  "  no  more 
spirit  in  him  "  when  he  saw  the  Israelitish  host  pass  the  Jordan. 
He  shut  himself  up  in  his  insufficient  walls,  and  seems  to  have 
made  no  attempt  at  a  defence.  Over  this  upland  the  Jews  swarmed, 
and  all  the  armed  host  with  seven  priests  and  seven  rara's-horns 
marched  seven  days  round  and  round  the  doomed  city,  and  on 
the  seventh  day  the  people  shouted  the  walls  down.  Every  living 
thing  in  the  city  was  destroyed  except  Rahab  and  her  family,  the 
town  was  burned,  and  for  five  hundred  years  thereafter  no  man 
dared  to  build  upon  its  accursed  foundations.  Why  poor  Jericho 
was  specially  marked  out  for  malediction  we  are  not  told. 

When  it  was  rebuilt  in  Ahab's  time,  the  sons  of  the  prophets 
found  it  an  agreeable  place  of  residence ;  large  numbers  of  them 
were  gathered  here  while  Elijah  lived,  and  they  conversed  with 
that  prophet  when  he  was  on  his  last  journey  through  this  valley, 
which  he  had  so  often  traversed,  compelled  by  the  Spirit  of  tlie 
Lord.  No  incident  in  the  biblical  story  so  strongly  appeals  to  the 
imagination,  nor  is  there  anything  in  the  poetical  conception  of 
any  age  so  sublime  as  the  last  passage  of  Elijah  across  this  plain 
and  his  departure  into  heaven  beyond  Jordan.  When  he  came 
from  Bethel  to  Jericho,  he  begged  Elisha,  his '  attendant,  to  tarry 
here ;  but  the  latter  would  not  yield  either  to  his  entreaty  or  to 
that  of  the  sons  of  the  prophets.  AVe  can  see  theVay  the  two 
prophets  went  hence  to  Jordan.  Eifty  men  of  the  sons  of  the 
prophets  went  and  stood  to  view  them  afar  off,  and  they  saw  the 
two  stand  by  Jordan.  Already  it  was  known  that  Elijah  was  to 
disappear,  and  the  two  figures,  lessening  in  the  distance,  were  fol- 
lowed with  a  fearful  curiosity.  Did  they  pass  on  swiftly,  and  was 
there  some  premonition,  in  the  wind  that  blew  their  flowing  man- 
tles, of  the  heavenly  gale?  Elijah  smites  the  waters  with  his 
mantle,  the  two  pass  over  dry-shod,  and  "  as  they  still  went  on 
and  talked,  behold  there  appeared  a  chariot  of  fire,  and  horses  of 
fire,  and  parted  them  both  asunder;  and  Elijah  went  up  by  a 
whirlwind  into  heaven.  And  Elisha  saw  it,  and  he  cried.  My 
father,  my  father,  the  chariot  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof. 
And  he  saw  him  no  more." 


JERICHO.  99 

Elislia  returned  to  Jericho  and  abode  there  while  the  sons  of 
the  prophets  sought  for  Elijah  beyond  Jordan  three  days,  but  did 
not  find  him.  And  the  men  of  the  city  said  to  Elisha,  "Behold, 
I  pi'ay  thee,  the  situation  of  this  city  is  pleasant,  as  my  lord 
seeth,  but  the  Avater  is  naught  and  the  ground  is  ban-en."  Then 
Elisha  took  salt  and  healed  the  spring  of  Avater ;  and  ever  since, 
to  this  day,  the  fountain,  noAV  called  'Ain  es-Sultan,  has  sent  forth 
sweet  Avater. 

Turning  toAvards  the  northwest,  we  see  the  passage  through  the 
mountain,  by  the  fountain  'Ain  Duk,  to  Bethel.  It  Avas  out  of 
some  woods  there,  where  the  mountain  is  now  bare,  that  Elisha 
called  the  tAvo  she-bears  which  administered  that  dreadful  lesson 
to  the  children  who  derided  his  baldness.  All  the  region,  indeed, 
recalls  the  miracles  of  Elisha.  It  AA^as  probably  here  that  Naaman 
the  Syrian  came  to  be  healed ;  there  at  Gilgal  Elisha  took  the 
death  out  of  the  great  pot  in  Avhich  the  sons  of  the  prophets  Avere 
seething  their  pottage  ;  and  it  was  there  in  the  Jordan  that  he 
made  the  iron  axe  to  swim. 

Of  all  this  celebrated  and  ill-fated  Jericho,  nothing  noAV  remains 
but  a  hillock  and  Elisha's  spring.  The  Avild  beasts  of  the  desert 
proAA^l  about  it,  and  the  night-bird  hoots  over  its  fall,  —  a  sort  of 
echo  of  the  shouts  that  brought  doAvn  its  Avails.  Our  tents  are 
pitched  near  the  hillock,  and  the  animals  are  picketed  on  the  open 
ground  before  them  by  the  stream.  The  Syrian  tourist  in  these 
days  travels  luxuriously.  Oiu'  own  party  has  four  tents,  —  the 
kitchen  tent,  the  dining  tent,  and  tAvo  for  lodging.  They  are  fur- 
nished Avith  tables,  chairs,  all  the  conveniences  of  the  toilet,  and 
cai-peted  Avith  bright  rugs.  The  cook  is  an  artist,  and  our  table 
is  one  that  Avould  have  astonished  the  sons  of  the  prophets.  The 
Syrian  party  have  their  oAvn  tents ;  a  family  from  Kentucky  has 
camped  near  by ;  and  Ave  giA^e  to  Jericho  a  settled  appearance. 
The  elder  sheykh  accompanies  the  other  party  of  Americans,  so 
that  Ave  have  noAV  all  the  protection  possible. 

The  dragoman  of  the  Kentuckians  we  have  already  encountered 
in  Egypt  and  on  the  journey,  and  been  impressed  by  his  respect- 
able gravity.  It  Avould  perhaps  be  difficult  for  him  to  tell  his 
nationality  or  birthplace ;  he  wears  the  European  dress,  and  his 


100  IN.   THE   LEVANT. 

gold  spectacles  and  big  stomach  would  pass  him  anywhere  for  a 
German  professor.  He  seems  out  of  place  as  a  dragoman,  but 
if  any  one  desired  a  savant  as  a  companion  in  the  East,  he  would 
be  the  man.  Indeed,  his  employers  soon  discover  that  his  forte 
is  information,  and  not  work.  While  the  other  servants  are  bus}'^ 
about  the  camps  Antonio  comes  over  to  our  tent,  and  opens  up 
the  richness  of  his  mind,  and  illustrates  his  capacity  as  a  Syrian 
guide. 

"  You  know  that  mountain,  there,  with  the  chapel  on  top?  "  he 
asks. 

"  No." 

"  Well,  that  is  Mt.  Nebo,  and  that  one  next  to  it  is  Pisgah,  the 
mountain  of  the  prophet  Moses." 

Both  these  mountains  are  of  course  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Jordan  in  the  Moab  range,  but  they  are  not  identified,  —  except 
by  Antonio.  The  sharp  mountain  behind  us  is  Quarantania,  the 
Mount  of  Christ's  Temptation.  Its  whole  side  to  the  summit  is 
honey-combed  with  the  cells  of  hermits  who  once  dwelt  there,  and 
it  is  still  the  resort  of  many  pilgrims. 

The  evening  is  charming,  warm  but  not  depressing;  the  atmos- 
phere is  even  exhilarating,  and  this  surprises  us,  since  we  are  so 
far  beloAV  the  sea  level.  The  Doctor  says  that  it  is  exactly  like 
Colorado  on  a  July  night.'  We  have  never  been  so  low  before, 
not  even  in  a  coal-mine.  We  are  not  only  about  thirty-seven 
hundred  feet  below  Jerusalem,  we  are  over  twelve  hundred  below 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Sitting  outside  the  tent  under  the  starlight, 
we  enjoy  the  novelty  and  the  mysteriousness  of  the  scene.  Tents, 
horses  picketed  among  the  bushes,  the  firelight,  the  groups  of 
servants  and  drivers  taking  their  supper,  the  figure  of  an  Arab 
from  Gilgal  coming  forward  occasionally  out  of  the  darkness,  the 
singing,  the  occasional  violent  outbreak  of  kicking  and  squealing 
among  the  ill-assorted  horses  and  mules,  the  running  of  loose- 
robed  attendants  to  the  rescue  of  some  poor  beast,  the  strong  im- 
pression of  the  locality  upon  us,  and  I  know  not  wliat  Old  Testa- 
ment flavor  about  it  all,  conspire  to  make  the  night  memorable. 

"  This  place  very  dangerous,"  says  Antonio,  who  is  standing 
round,  bursting  with  information.     "  Him  berry  wise,"  is  Abd- 


A  WISE  DRAGOMAN.  101 

el-Atti's  opinion  of  him.  "  Know  a  great  deal;  I  link  him  not 
live  long." 

"  What  is  the  danger  ?  "  we  ask. 

"  Wild  beasts,  wild  boars,  hyenas,  —  all  these  bush  full  of  them. 
It  was  three  years  now  I  was  camped  here  with  Baron  Kronkheit. 
'Bout  twelve  o'clock  I  heard,  a  noise  and  came  out.  Right  there, 
not  twenty  feet  from  here,  stood  a  hyena  as  big  as  a  donkey,  his 
two  eyes  like  iire.  I  did  not  shoot  him  for  fear  t6  wake  up  the 
Baron." 

"  Did  he  kill  any  of  your  party  ?  " 

"  Not  any  man.  In  the  morning  I  find  he  has  carried  oft"  our 
only  mutton." 

Notwithstanding  these  dangers,  the  night  passes  without  alarm, 
except  the  barking  of  jackals  about  the  kitchen  tent.  In  the 
morning  I  ask  Antonio  if  he  heard  the  hyenas  howling  in  the 
night.  "  Yes,  indeed,  plenty  of  them ;  they  came  very  near  my 
tent." 

We  are  astir  at  sunrise,  breakfast,  and  start  for  the  Jordan. 
It  is  the  opinion  of  the  dragoman  and  the  sheykh  that  we  shoidd 
go  first  to  the  Dead  Sea.  It  is  the  custom.  Every  tourist  goes 
to  the  Dead  Sea  first,  bathes,  and  then  washes  off  the  salt  in 
the  Jordan.  No  one  ever  thought  of  going  to  the  Jordan  first. 
It  is  impossible.  We  must  visit  the  Dead  Sea,  and  then  lunch  at 
the  Jordan.  We  wished,  on  the  contrary,  to  lunch  at  the  Dead 
Sea,  at  which  we  should  otherwise  only  have  a  very  brief  time. 
We  insisted  upon  our  own  programme,  to  the  great  disgust  of 
all  our  camp  attendants,  who  predicted  disaster. 

The  Jordan  is  an  hour  and  a  half  from  Jericho ;  that  is  the 
distance  to  the  bathing-place  of  the  Greek  pilgrims.  We  descend 
all  the  way.  Wild  vegetation  is  never  wanting ;  wild-flowers 
abound ;  we  pass  through  thickets  of  thorns,  bearing  the  yellow 
"  apples  of  the  Dead  Sea,"  which  grow  all  over  this  plain.  At 
Gilgal  (now  called  Riha)  we  find  what  is  probably  the  nastiest 
village  in  the  world,  and  its  miserable  inhabitants  are  ci'edited 
with  all  the  vices  of  Sodom.  The  wretched  huts  are  surrounded 
by  a  thicket  of  nuhk  as  a  protection  against  the  plundering  Bed- 
aween.     The  houses  are  rudelv  built  of  stone,  with  a  coverine:  of 


102  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

cane  or  brush,  and  each  one  is  enclosed  in  a  hedge  of  thorns. 
These  thorns,  which  grow  rankly  on  the  plain,  are  those  of  which 
the  "  crown  of  thorns  "  was  plaited,  and  all  devout  pilgrims  carry 
away  some  of  them.  The  habitations  within  these  thorny 
enclosures  are  filthy  beyond  description,  and  poverty-stricken. 
And  this  is  in  a  watered  plain  which  would  bloom  with  all  manner 
of  fruits  with  the  least  care.  Indeed,  there  are  a  few  tangled 
gardens  of  the  rankest  vegetation ;  in  them  we  see  the  orange, 
the  fig,  the  deceptive  pomegranate  with  its  pink  blossoms,  and  the 
olive.  As  this  is  the  time  of  pilgrimage,  a  company  of  Turkish 
soldiers  from  Jerusalem  is  encamped  at  the  village,  and  the  broken 
country  about  it  is  covered  with  tents,  booths,  shops,  kitchens, 
and  presents  the  appearance  of  a  fair  and  a  camp-meeting  com- 
bined. There  are  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of  pilgrims,  who 
go  every  morning,  as  long  as  they  remain  here,  to  dip  in  the  Jor- 
dan. Near  the  village  rises  the  square  tower  of  an  old  convent, 
probably,  which  is  dignified  with  the  name  of  the  "  house  of 
Zacchaeus."  This  plain  was  once  famed  for  its  fertility ;  it  was 
covered  with  gardens  and  palm-groves ;  the  precious  balsam, 
honey,  and  henna  were  produced  here ;  the  balsam  gardens  were 
the  royal  gift  of  Antony  to  Cleopatra,  who  transferred  the  balsam- 
trees  to  Heliopolis  in  Egypt. 

As  we  ride  away  from  Gilgal  and  come  upon  a  more  open  and 
desert  plain,  I  encounter  an  eagle  sitting  on  the  top  of  a  thorn- 
tree,  not  the  noblest  of  his  species,  but,  for  Palestine,  a  veiy  fair 
eagle.  Here  is  a  chance  for  the  Syrian  hunter;  he  is  armed  with 
gun  and  pistols ;  he  has  his  dogs ;  now,  if  ever,  is  the  time  for 
him  to  himt,  and  I  fall  back  and  point  out  his  opportunity.  He 
does  not  embrace  it.  It  is  an  easy  shot ;  perhaps  he  is  looking 
for  wild  boars ;  perhaps  he  is  a  tender-minded  hunter.  At  any 
rate,  he  makes  no  effort  to  take  the  eagle,  and  when  I  ride  forward 
the  bird  gracefully  rises  in  the  air,  sweeping  upward  in  magnifi- 
cent circles,  now  veering  towards  the  Mount  of  Temptation,  and 
now  towards  Nebo,  but  always  as  serene  as  the  air  in  which  he 
floats. 

And  now  occurs  one  of  those  incidents  which  are  not  rare  to 
travellers  in  Syria,  but  which  are  rare  and  scarcely  l)elieved  else- 


AN   ADVENTURE.— THE  JORDAN.  103 

where.  As  the  eagle  hangs  for  a  second  motionless  in  the  em- 
pyrean far  before  me,  he  drops  a  feather.  I  see  the  gray  plume 
glance  in  the  sun  and  swirl  slowly  down  in  the  lucid  air.  In 
Judaea  every  object  is  as  distinct  as  in  a  photograph.  You  can 
see  things  at  a  distance  you  can  make  no  one  believe  at  home. 
The  eagle  plume,  detached  from  the  noble  bird,  begins  its  leisurely 
descent. 

I  see  in  a  moment  my  opportunity.  I  might  never  have  an- 
other. All  travellers  in  Syria  whose  books  I  have  ever  read  have 
one  or  more  startling  adventures.  Usually  it  is  with  a  horse.  I 
do  not  remember  any  ^vith  a  horse  and  an  eagle.  I  determine  at 
once  to  have  one.  Glancing  a  moment  at  the  company  behind 
me,  and  then  fixing  my  eye  on  the  falling  feather,  I  speak  a  word 
to  my  steed,  and  dart  forward. 

A  word  was  enough.  The  noble  animal  seemed  to  comprehend 
the  situation.  He  was  of  the  purest  Arab  breed  ;  four  legs,  four 
Avhite  ankles,  small  ears,  slender  pasterns,  nostrils  thin  as  tissue 
paper,  and  dilating  upon  the  fall  of  a  leaf ;  an  eye  terrible  in  rage, 
but  melting  in  affection ;  a  round  ban'el ;  gentle  as  a  kitten,  but 
spirited  as  a  game-cock.  His  mother  was  a  Nedjed  mare  from 
Medina,  who  had  been  exchanged  by  a  Bedawee  chief  for  nine 
beautiful  Circassians,  but  only  as  a  compromise  after  a  war  by  the 
Pasha  of  Egypt  for  her  possession.  Her  father  was  one  of  the 
most  respectable  horses  in  Yemen.  Neither  father,  mother,  nor 
colt  had  ever  eaten  anything  but  selected  dates. 

At  the  word,  Abdallah  springs  forward,  bounding  over  the  sand, 
skimming  over  the  thorn  bushes,  scattering  the  Jordan  pilgrims 
right  and  left.  He  does  not  seem  to  be  so  much  a  horse  as  a  cre- 
ation of  the  imagination,  —  a  Pegasus.  At  every  leap  we  gain  upon 
the  feather,  but  it  is  still  far  ahead  of  us,  and  swirling  down, 
down,  as  the  air  takes  the  plume  or  the  weight  of  gravity  acts 
upon  the  quill.  Abdallah  does  not  yet  know  the  object  of  our 
fearful  pace,  but  his  docility  is  such  that  every  time  I  speak  to 
him  he  seems  to  shoot  out  of  himself  in  sudden  bursts  of  enthu- 
siasm. The  terrible  strain  continues  longer  than  I  had  supposed 
it  would,  for  I  had  undercalculated  both  the  height  at  which  the 
feather  was  cast  and  my  distance  to  the  spot  upon  which  it  must 


104  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

fall.  None  but  a  horse  fed  on  dates  could  keep  up  the  awful 
gait.  We  lly  and  the  feather  falls ;  and  it  falls  with  increasing 
momentum.  It  is  going,  going  to  the  ground,  and  we  are  not 
there.  At  this  instant,  Avhen  I  am  in  despair,  the  feather  twirls, 
and  Abdallah  suddenly  casts  his  eye  up  and  catches  the  glint  of 
it.  The  glance  suffices  to  put  him  completely  in  possession  of 
the  situation.  He  gives  a  low  neigh  of  joy  ;  I  plunge  both  spurs 
into  his  flanks  about  six  or  seven  inches ;  he  leaps  into  the  air, 
and  sails  like  a  bird,  —  of  course  only  for  a  moment ;  but  it  is 
enough ;  I  sti'etch  out  my  hand  and  catch  the  eagle's  plume  be- 
fore it  touches  the  ground.  We  light  on  the  other  side  of  a 
clump  of  thorns,  and  Abdallah  walks  on  as  quietly  as  if  nothing 
had  happened ;  he  was  not  blown ;  not  a  hair  of  his  glossy  coat 
was  turned.     I  have  the  feather  to  show. 

Pilgrims  are  plenty,  returning  from  the  river  in  a  continuous 
procession,  in  numbers  rivalling  the  children  of  Israel  when  they 
first  camped  at  Gilgal.  We  descend  into  the  river-bottom,  wind 
through  the  clumps  of  tangled  bushes,  and  at  length  reach  an 
open  place  where  the  river  for  a  few  rods  is  visible.  The  ground 
is  trampled  like  a  watering-spot  for  cattle ;  the  bushes  are  not 
large  enough  to  give  shade ;  there  are  no  trees  of  size  except  one 
or  two  at  the  water's  edge ;  the  banks  are  slimy,  there  seems  to 
be  no  comfortable  place  to  sit  except  on  your  horse  —  on  Jor- 
dan's stormy  banks  I  stand  and  cast  a  wistful  eye ;  the  wistful 
eye  encounters  nothing  agreeable. 

The  Jordan  here  resembles  the  Arkansas  above  Little  Rock, 
says  the  Doctor;  I  think  it  is  about  the  size  of  the  Concord 
where  it  flows  through  the  classic  town  of  that  name  in  Massa- 
chusetts ;  but  it  is  much  swifter.  Indeed,  it  is  a  rapid  cunent, 
which  would  sweep  away  the  strongest  swimmer.  The  opposite 
bank  is  steep,  and  composed  of  sandy  loam  or  marl.  The  hither 
bank  is  low,  but  slipper}',  and  it  is  difficult  to  dip  up  Avater  from 
it.  Close  to  the  shore  the  water  is  shallow,  and  a  rope  is 
stretched  out  for  the  protection  of  the  bathers.  This  is  the 
Greek  bathing-place,  but  we  are  too  late  to  see  the  pilgrims  enter 
the  stream  ;  crowds  of  them  are  still  here,  cutting  canes  to  carry 
away,  and  filling  their  tin  cans  with  the  holy  water.     We  taste 


I 

s 

I 


THE  DEAD  SEA.  105 

the  water,  which  is  very  muddy,  and  find  it  warm  but  not  un- 
pleasant. We  are  glad  that  we  have  decided  to  lunch  at  the 
Dead  Sea,  for  a  more  uninviting  place  than  this  could  not  be 
found;  above  and  below  this  spot  are  thickets  and  boggy  ground. 
It  is  beneath  the  historical  and  religious  dignity  of  the  occasion 
to  speak  of  lunch,  but  all  tourists  know  what  importance  it 
assumes  on  such  an  excursion,  and  that  their  high  reflections 
seldom  come  to  them  on  the  historical  spot.  Indeed,  one  must 
be  removed  some  distance  from  the  vulgar  Jordan  before  he  can 
glow  at  the  thought  of  it.  In  swiftness  and  volume  it  exceeds 
our  expectations,  but  its  beauty  is  entirely  a  creation  of  the 
imagination. 

We  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  only  a  solitary  pilgrim  bathe. 
This  was  a  shock-headed  Greek  young  man,  who  reluctantly  ven- 
tured into  the  dirty  water  up  to  his  knees  and  stood  there  shiver- 
ing, and  whimpering  over  the  orders  of  the  priest  on  the  bank, 
who  insisted  upon  his  dipping.  Perhaps  the  boy  lacked  faith ; 
perhaps  it  was  his  first  experiment  with  water ;  at  any  rate,  he 
stood  there  until  his  spiritual  father  waded  in  and  ducked  the 
blubbering  and  sputtering  neophyte  under.  This  was  not  a 
baptism,  but  a  meritorious  bath.  Some  seedy  fellahs  from 
Gilgal  sat  on  the  bank  fishing.  When  I  asked  them  if  they  had 
anything,  they  produced  from  the  corners  of  their  gowns  some 
Roman  copper  coins,  picked  up  at  Jericho,  and  which  they  swore 
were  dropped  there  by  the  Jews  when  they  assaulted  the  city  with 
the  rams'-horns.  These  idle  fishermen  caught  now  and  then  a 
rather  soft,  light-colored  perch,  with  large  scales, — a  sickly -look- 
ing fisb,  which  the  Greeks,  however,  pronounced  "tayeb." 

We  leave  the  river  and  ride  for  an  hour  and  a  half  across  a 
nearly  level  plain,  the  earth  of  which  shows  salts  here  and  there, 
dotted  with  a  low,  fat-leaved  plant,  something  like  the  American 
sage-bush.  Wild-flowers  enliven  the  way,  and  although  the 
country  is  not  exactly  cheerful,  it  has  no  appearance  of  desolation 
except  such  as  comes  from  lack  of  water. 

The  Dead  Sea  is  the  least  dead  of  any  sheet  of  water  I  know. 
When  we  first  an-ived  the  waters  were  a  lovely  blue,  which 
changed  to  green  in  the  shifting  light,  but  they  were  always 
5* 


106  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

animated  and  sparkling.  It  has  a  sloping  sandy  beach,  strewn 
with  pebbles,  up  which  the  waves  come  with  a  pleasant  murmur. 
The  plain  is  hot ;  here  we  find  a  cool  breeze.  The  lovely  plain 
of  water  stretches  away  to  the  south  between  blue  and  purple 
ranges  of  mountains,  which  thrust  occasionally  bold  promontories 
into  it,  and  add  a  charm  to  the  perspective. 

The  sea  is  not  inimical  either  to  vegetable  or  animal  life  on  its 
borders.  Before  we  reach  it  I  hear  bird-notes  high  in  the  air 
like  the  song  of  a  lark ;  birds  are  flitting  about  the  shore  and 
singing,  and  gulls  are  wheeling  over  the  water ;  a  rabbit  runs 
into  his  hole  close  by  the  beach.  Growing  close  to  the  shore  is 
a  high  woody  stonewort,  with  abundance  of  fleshy  leaves  and 
thousands  of  blossoms,  delicate  protruding  stamens  hanging  over 
the  waters  of  the  sea  itself.  The  plant  with  the  small  yellow 
fruit,  which  we  take  to  be  that  of  the  apples  of  Sodom,  also 
grows  here.  It  is  the  Solarium  spinosa,  closely  allied  to  the 
potato,  egg-plant,  and  tomato ;  it  has  a  woody  stem  with  sharp 
recurved  thorns,  sometimes  grows  ten  feet  high,  and  is  now 
covered  with  round  orange  berries. 

It  is  not  the  scene  of  desolation  that  we  expected,  although 
some  branches  and  trunks  of  trees,  gnarled  and  bleached,  the 
drift-wood  of  the  Jordan,  strewn  along  the  beach,  impart  a  dead 
aspect  to  the  shore.  These  dry  branches  are,  however,  useful ;  we 
build  them  up  into  a  wigwam,  over  which  we  spread  our  blank- 
ets ;  under  this  we  sit,  sheltered  from  the  sun,  enjoying  the 
delightful  breeze  and  the  cheering  prospect  of  the  sparkling  sea. 
The  improvident  Arabs,  now  that  it  is  impossible  to  get  fresh 
water,  begin  to  want  it ;  they  have  exhausted  their  own  jugs  and 
ours,  having  neglected  to  bring  anything  like  an  adequate  supply. 
To  see  water  and  not  be  able  to  drink  it  is  too  much  for  their 
philosophy. 

The  party  separates  along  the  shore,  seeking  for  places  where 
bushes  grow  out  upon  tongues  of  land  and  oflFer  shelter  from  ob- 
servation for  the  bather.  The  first  impression  we  have  of  the 
water  is  its  perfect  clearness.  It  is  the  most  innocent  water  in 
appearance,  and  you  would  not  suspect  its  saltness  and  extreme 
bitterness.     No  fish  live  in  it ;  the  water  is  too  salt  for  anything 


4 


EASY   SWIMMING.  107 

but  codfish.  Its  buoyancy  has  not  been  exaggerated  by  travel- 
lers, but  I  did  not  expect  to  find  bathing  in  it  so  agreeable  as  it 
is.  The  water  is  of  a  happy  temperature,  soft,  not  exactly  oily, 
but  exceedingly  agreeable  to  the  skin,  and  it  left  a  delicious  sen- 
sation after  the  bath  ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  be  careful  not  to  get 
any  of  it  into  the  eyes.  For  myself,  I  found  swimming  in  it  de- 
lightful, and  I  wish  the  Atlantic  Ocean  were  like  it ;  nobody  then 
would  ever  be  drowned.  Floating  is  no  effort ;  on  the  contrary, 
sinking  is  impossible.  The  only  annoyance  in  swimming  is  the 
tendency  of  the  feet  to  strike  out  of  water,  and  of  the  swimmer  to 
go  over  on  his  head.  When  I  stood  upright  in  the  water  it  came 
about  to  my  shoulders  ;  but  it  was  difficult  to  stand,  from  the  con- 
stant desire  of  the  feet  to  go  to  the  surface.  I  suppose  that  the 
different  accounts  of  travellers  in  regard  to  the  buoyancy  of  the 
water  are  due  to  the  different  specific  gravity  of  the  writers.  We 
cannot  aU  be  doctors  of  divinity.  I  found  that  the  best  way  to 
float  was  to  make  a  bow  of  the  body  and  rest  with  feet  and  head 
out  of  water,  which  was  something  like  being  in  a  cushioned 
chair.  Even  then  it  requires  some  care  not  to  turn  over.  The 
bather  seems  to  himself  to  be  a  cork,  and  has  little  control  of  his 
body. 

About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  shore  is  an  artificial  island 
of  stone,  upon  which  are  remains  of  regular  masonry.  Probably 
some  crusader  had  a  castle  there.  We  notice  upon  looking  down 
into  the  clear  depths,  some  distance  out,  in  the  sunlight,  that  the 
lake  seems,  as  it  flows,  to  have  translucent  streaks,  which  are  like 
a  thick  solution  of  sugar,  showing  how  completely  saturated  it 
is  with  salts.  It  is,  in  fact,  twelve  hundred  and  ninety-two  feet 
below  the  Mediterranean,  nothing  but  a  deep,  half-dried-up  sea : 
the  chloride  of  magnesia,  Avhich  gives  it  its  extraordinarily  bitter 
taste,  does  not  crystallize  and  precipitate  itself  so  readily  as  the 
chloride  of  sodium. 

We  look  in  vain  for  any  evidence  of  volcanic  disturbance  or 
action  of  fire.  Whatever  there  may  be  at  the  other  end  of  the 
lake,  there  is  none  here.  We  find  no  bitumen  or  any  fire-stones, 
although  the  black  stones  along  the  beach  may  have  been  sup- 
posed to  be  bituminous.     All  the  pebbles  and  all  the  stones  of 


108  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

the  beach  are  of  chalk  flint,  and  tell  no  story  of  fire  or  volcanic 
fury. 

Indeed,  the  lake  has  no  apparent  hostility  to  life.  An  enter- 
prising company  could  draw  oft"  the  Jordan  thirty  miles  above 
here  and  make  all  this  valley  a  garden,  producing  fruits  and 
sugar-cane  and  cotton,  and  this  lake  one  of  the  most  lovely  water- 
ing-places in  the  world.  I  have  no  doubt  maladies  could  be  dis- 
covered which  its  waters  are  exactly  calculated  to  cure.  I  confi- 
dently expect  to  hear  some  day  that  great  hotels  are  built  upon 
this  shore,  which  are  crowded  with  the  pious,  the  fashionable,  and 
the  diseased.  I  seem  to  see  this  blue  and  sunny  lake  covered 
with  a  gay  multitude  of  bathers,  floating  about  the  livelong  day 
on  its  surface ;  parties  of  them  making  a  pleasure  excursion  to  the 
foot  of  Pisgah  ;  groups  of  them  chatting,  singing,  amusing  them- 
selves as  they  would  under  the  shade  of  trees  on  land,  having  um- 
brellas and  floating  awnings,  and  perhaps  servants  to  bear  their 
parasols ;  couples  floating  here  and  there  at  Avill  in  the  sweet 
di'eam  of  a  love  that  seems  to  be  suspended  between  the  heaven 
and  the  earth.  No  one  will  be  at  any  expense  for  boats,  for  every 
one  will  be  his  own  boat,  and  launch  himself  without  sail  or  oars 
whenever  he  pleases.  How  dainty  will  be  the  little  feminine 
barks  that  the  tossing  mariner  will  hail  on  that  peaceful  sea !  No 
more  wailing  of  wives  over  husbands  drowned  in  the  waves,  no 
more  rescuing  of  limp  girls  by  courageous  lovers.  People  may 
be  shipwrecked  if  there  comes  a  squall  from  Moab,  but  they  can- 
not be  drowned.  I  confess  that  this  picture  is  the  most  fascinat- 
ing that  I  have  been  able  to  conjure  up  in  Syria. 

We  take  our  lunch  under  the  wigwam,  fanned  by  a  pleasant 
breeze.  The  persons  who  partake  it  present  a  pleasing  variety  of 
nations  and  colors,  and  the  "  spread  "  itself,  though  simple,  was 
gathered  from  many  lands.  Some  one  took  the  trouble  to  note 
the  variety :  raisins  from  Damascus,  bread,  chicken,  and  mut- 
ton from  Jerusalem,  white  wine  from  Bethlehem,  figs  from 
Smyrna,  cheese  from  America,  dates  from  Nubia,  walnuts  from 
Germany,  water  from  Elisha's  well,  eggs  from  Hen. 

We  should  like  to  linger  till  night  in  this  enchanting  place,  but 
for  an  hour  the  sheykh  and  dragoman  have  been  urging  om*  de- 


I 


CRAZY  WITH   THIRST.  109 

parture ;  men  and  beasts  are  represented  as  suffering  for  water,  — 
all  because  we  have  reversed  the  usual  order  of  travel.  As  soon 
as  we  leave  the  lake  we  lose  its  breeze,  the  heat  becomes  severe ; 
the  sandy  plain  is  rolling  and  a  little  broken,  but  it  has  no  shade, 
no  water,  and  is  indeed  a  weary  way.  The  horses  feel  the  want 
of  water  sadly.  The  Arabs,  whom  we  had  supposed  patient  in 
deprivation,  are  almost  crazy  with  thirst.  After  we  have  ridden 
for  over  an  hour  the  sheykh's  horse  suddenly  wheels  off  and  runs 
over  the  plain ;  my  nag  follows  him,  apparently  Avithout  reason, 
and  in  spite  of  my  efforts  I  am  run  away  with.  The  horses  dash 
along,  and  soon  the  whole  cavalcade  is  racing  after  us.  The  ob- 
ject is  soon  visible,  —  a  fringe  of  trees,  which  denotes  a  brook ; 
the  horses  press  on,  dash  down  the  steep  bank,  and  plunge  their 
heads  into  the  water  up  to  the  eyes.  The  Arabs  follow  suit.  The 
sheykh  declares  that  in  fifteen  minutes  more  both  men  and  horses 
would  have  been  dead.  Never  before  did  anybody  lunch  at  the 
Dead  Sea. 

When  the  train  comes  up,  the  patient  donkey  that  Madame  rides 
is  pushed  through  the  brook  and  not  permitted  to  wet  his  muzzle. 
I  am, indignant  at  such  cruelty,  and  spring  off  my  horse,  push  the 
two  donkey-boys  aside,  and  lead  the  eager  donkey  to  the  stream. 
At  once  there  is  a  cry  of  protest  from  dragomans,  sheykh,  and  the 
whole  crowd,  "  No  drink  donkey,  no  drink  donkey,  no  let  donkey, 
bad  for  donkey."  There  could  not  have  been  a  greater  outcry 
among  the  Jews  when  the  ark  of  the  covenant  was  likely  to  touch 
the  water.  I  desist  from  my  charitable  efforts.  Why  the  poor  beast, 
whose  whole  body  craved  water  as  much  as  that  of  the  horse,  was 
denied  it,  I  know  not.  It  is  said  that  if  you  give  a  donkey  water 
on  the  road  he  won't  go  thereafter.  Certainly  the  donkey  is  never 
permitted  to  drink  when  travelling.  I  think  the  patient  and  chas- 
tened creature  will  get  more  in  the  next  world  than  his  cruel 
masters. 

Nearly  all  the  way  over  the  plain  we  have  the  long  snowy  range 
of  Mt.  Hermon  in  sight,  a  noble  object,  closing  the  long  northern 
vista,  and  a  refreshment  to  the  eyes  wearied  by  the  parched  vege- 
tation of  the  valley  and  dazzled  by  the  aerial  shimmer.  If  we 
turn  from  the  north  to  the  south,  we  have  the  entirely  different 


110  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

but  equally  poetical  prospect  of  the  blue  sea  enclosed  in  the  re- 
ceding hills,  which  fall  away  into  the  violet  shade  of  the  horizon. 
The  Jordan  Valley  is  unique ;  by  a  geologic  fault  it  is  dropped 
over  a  thousand  feet  below  the  sea-level ;  it  is  guarded  by  moun- 
tain-ranges which  are  from  a  thousand  to  two  thousand  feet  high  ; 
at  one  end  is  a  mountain  ten  thousand  feet  high,  from  which  the 
snow  never  disappears ;  at  the  other  end  is  a  lake  forty  miles  long, 
of  the  saltest  and  bitterest  water  in  the  world.  All  these  contrasts 
the  eye  embraces  at  one  point. 

We  dismount  at  the  camp  of  the  Russian  pilgrims  by  Riha,  and 
walk  among  the  tents  and  booths.  The  sharpers  of  Syria  attend 
the  strangers,  tempt  them  with  various  holy  wares,  and  entice 
them  into  their  dirty  coffee-shops.  It  is  a  scene  of  mingled  cre- 
dulity and  knavery,  of  devotion  and  traffic.  There  are  great  booths 
for  the  sale  of  vegetables,  nuts,  and  dried  fruit.  The  w  hole  may 
be  sufficiently  described  as  a  camp-meeting  without  any  prayer- 
tent. 

At  sunset  I  have  a  qmet  hour  by  the  fountain  of  Elisha.  It  is 
a  remarkable  pool.  Under  the  ledge  of  limestone  rocks  the  water 
gushes  out  with  considerable  force,  and  in  such  volume  as  to  form 
a  large  brook  which  flows  out  of  the  basin  and  murmurs  over  a 
stony  bed.  You  cannot  recover  your  surprise  to  see  a  river  in 
this  dry  country  burst  suddenly  out  of  the  ground.  A  group  of 
native  women  have  come  to  the  pool  with  jars,  and  they  stay  to 
gossip,  sitting  about  the  edge  upon  the  stones  with  their  feet  in 
the  water.  One  of  them  wears  a  red  gown,  and  her  cheeks  are  as 
red  as  her  dress ;  indeed,  I  have  met  several  women  to-day  who 
had  the  complexion  of  a  ripe  Flemish  Beauty  pear.  As  it  seems 
to  be  the  fashion,  I  also  sit  on  the  bank  of  the  stream  with  my 
feet  in  the  warm  swift  water,  and  enjoy  the  sunset  and  the  strange 
concoiu'se  of  pilgrims  who  are  gathering  about  the  well.  They 
are  worthy  Greeks,  very  decent  people,  men  and  Avomen,  who  sa- 
lute me  pleasantly  as  they  amve,  and  seem  to  take  my  participa- 
tion in  the  bath  as  an  act  of  friendship. 

Just  below  the  large  pool,  by  a  smaller  one,  a  Greek  boy,  hav- 
ing bathed,  is  about  to  dress,  and  I  am  interested  to  watch  the 
process.     The  first  article  to  go  on  is  a  white  shirt ;  over  this  he 


TOILET   OF   A   GREEK   BOY.  Ill 

puts  on  two  blue  woollen  shirts  ;  he  then  draws  on  a  pair  of  large, 
loose  trousers  ;  into  these  the  shirts  are  tucked,  and  the  trousers  are 
tied  at  the  waist,  —  he  is  bothered  with  neither  pins  nor  buttons. 
Then  comes  the  turban,  which  is  a  soft  gray  and  yellow  material ; 
a  red  belt  is  next  wound  twice  about  the  waist ;  the  vest  is  yel- 
low and  open  in  front ;  and  the  costume  is  completed  by  a  jaunty 
jacket  of  yellow,  prettily  embroidered.  The  heap  of  clothes  on 
the  bank  did  not  promise  much,  but  the  result  is  a  very  handsome 
boy,  dressed,  I  am  sure,  most  comfortably  for  this  climate.  While 
I  sit  here  the  son  of  the  sheykh  rides  his  horse  to  the  pool.  He 
is  not  more  than  ten  years  old,  is  very  smartly  dressed  in  gay 
colors,  and  exceedingly  handsome,  although  he  has  somewhat  the 
supercilious  manner  of  a  lad  born  in  the  purple.  The  little  prince 
speaks  French,  and  osteiitatiously  displays  in  his  belt  a  big  re- 
volver. I  am  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  seeing  one  of  the  desert 
robbers  in  embryo. 

When  it  is  dusk  we  have  an  invasion  from  the  neighboring 
Bedaween,  an  imposition  to  which  all  tourists  are  subjected,  it 
being  taken  for  granted  that  we  desire  to  see  a  native  dance. 
This  is  one  of  the  ways  these  honest  people  have  of  levying  trib- 
ute ;  by  the  connivance  of  our  protectors,  the  head  sheykhs,  the 
entertainment  is  forced  upon  us,  and  the  performers  will  not  de- 
part without  a  liberal  backsheesh.  We  are  already  somewhat 
familiar  with  the  fascinating  dances  of  the  Orient,  and  have  only  a 
languid  curiosity  about  those  of  the  Jordan ;  but  before  we  are 
aware  there  is  a  crowd  before  our  tents,  and  the  evening  is  dis- 
turbed by  doleful  howling  and  drum-thumping.  The  scene  in 
the  flickering  firelight  is  sufficiently  fantastic. 

The  men  dance  first.  Some  twenty  or  thirty  of  them  form  in 
a  half-circle,  standing  close  together ;  their  o-owns  are  in  rags, 
their  black  hair  is  tossed  in  tangled  disorder,  and  their  eyes 
shine  with  animal  wildness.  The  only  dancing  they  perform 
consists  in  a  violent  swaying  of  the  body  from  side  to  side  in 
concert,  faster  and  faster  as  the  excitement  rises,  with  an  occasional 
stamping  of  the  feet,  and  a  continual  howling  like  darwishes. 
Two  vagabonds  step  into  the  focus  of  the  half-circle  and  hop 
about  in  the  most  stiff-legged  manner,  swinging  enormous  swords 


112  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

over  their  heads,  and  giving  from  time  to  time  a  war-whoop,  —  it 
seems  to  be  precisely  the  dance  of  the  North  American  Indians. 
We  are  told,  however,  that  the  howling  is  a  song,  and  that  the 
song  relates  to  meeting  the  enemy  and  demolishing  him.  The 
longer  the  performance  goes  on  the  less  we  like  it,  for  the  un- 
conthness  is  not  varied  by  a  single  graceful  motion,  and  the  mo- 
notony becomes  unendurable.     We  long  for  the  women  to  begin. 

When  the  women  begin,  we  wish  we  had  the  men  back  again. 
Creatures  uglier  and  dirtier  than  these  hags  could  not  be  found. 
Their  dance  is  much  the  same  as  that  of  the  men,  a  semicircle, 
with  a  couple  of  women  to  jump  about  and  Avhirl  swords.  But 
the  women  display  more  fierceness  and  more  passion  as  they  warm 
to  their  work,  and  their  shrill  cries,  dishevelled  hair,  loose  robes, 
and  frantic  gestures  give  us  new  ideas  of  the  capacity  of  the  gentle 
sex ;  you  think  that  they  would  not  only  slay  their  enemies,  but 
drink  their  blood  and  dance  upon  their  fragments.  Indeed,  one 
of  their  songs  is  altogether  belligerent;  it  taunts  the  men  with 
cowardice,  it  scotfs  them  for  not  daring  to  fight,  it  declares  that 
the  women  like  the  sword  and  know  how  to  use  it,  —  and  thus, 
and  thus,  and  thus,  lunging  their  swords  into  the  air,  would  they 
pierce  the  imaginary  enemy.  But  these  sweet  creatures  do  not 
sing  altogether  of  war;  they  sing  of  love  in  the  same  strident 
voices  and  fiei'ce  manner :  "  My  lover  will  meet  me  by  the 
stream,  he  will  take  me  over  the  water." 

When  the  performance  is  over  they  all  clamor  for  backsheesh ; 
it  is  given  in  a  lump  to  their  sheykli,  and  they  retire  into  the 
bushes  and  wrangle  over  its  distribution.  The  women  return  to 
us  and  say,  "  Why  you  give  our  backsheesh  to  sheykh  ?  We  no 
get  any.  Men  get  all."  It  seems  that  women  are  animated  now- 
adays by  the  same  spirit  the  world  over,  and  make  the  same  just 
complaints  of  the  injustice  of  men. 

When  we  turn  in,  there  is  a  light  gleaming  from  a  cell  high  up 
on  Mt.  Temptation,  where  some  modern  pilgrim  is  playing  hermit 
for  the  night. 

We  are  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  prepare  for  the  journey 
to  Jerusalem.  Near  our  camp  some  Abyssinian  pilgrims.  Chris- 
tians so  called,  have  encamped  in  the  bushes,  r.  priest  and  three 


ABYSSINIAN   PILGRIMS.  113 

or  four  laymen,  the  cleverest  and  most  decent  Abyssinians  we 
have  met  with.  They  are  from  Gondar,  and  have  been  a  year 
and  a  half  on  their  pilgrimage  from  their  country  to  the  Jordan. 
The  priest  is  severely  ill  with  a  fever,  and  his  condition  excites 
the  compassion  of  Abd-el-Atti,  who  procures  for  him  a  donkey  to 
ride  back  to  the  city.  About  the  only  luggage  of  the  party  con- 
sists of  sacred  books,  written  on  parchment  and  preserved  Avith 
great  care,  among  them  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  the  Psalms,  the 
Pentateuch,  and  volumes  of  prayers  to  the  Virgin.  They  are 
willing  to  exchange  some  of  these  manuscripts  for  silver,  and  we 
make  up  besides  a  little  purse  for  the  sick  man.  These  Abys- 
sinian Christians  when  at  home  live  under  the  old  dispensation, 
rather  than  the  new,  holding  rather  to  the  law  of  Moses  than  of 
Christ,  and  practise  generally  all  the  vices  of  all  ages ;  the  colony 
of  them  at  Jerusalem  is  a  disreputable  lot  of  lewd  beggars ;  so 
that  we  are  glad  to  find  some  of  the  race  Avho  have  gentle  man- 
ners and  are  outwardly  respectable.  To  be  sure,  we  had  come  a 
greater  distance  than  they  to  the  Jordan,  but  they  had  been  much 
longer  on  the  way. 

The  day  is  very  hot;  the  intense  sun  beats  upon  the  white  lime- 
stone rocks  and  is  reflected  into  the  valleys.  Our  view  in  returning 
is  better  than  it  was  in  coming;  the  plain  and  the  foot  of  the  pass 
are  covered  with  a  bloom  of  lilac-colored  flowers.  We  meet  and 
pass  more  pilgrims  than  before.  We  overtake  them  resting  or 
asleep  by  the  roadside,  in  the  shade  of  the  rocks.  They  all  carry 
bundles  of  sticks  and  canes  cut  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  and 
most  of  them  Jordan  water  in  cans,  bottles,  and  pitchers.  There 
are  motley  loads  of  baggage,  kitchen  utensils,  beds,  children. 
We  see  again  two,  three,  and  four  on  one  horse  or  mule,  and  now 
and  then  a  row,  as  if  on  a  bench,  across  the  horse's  back,  taking: 
up  the  whole  road. 

We  overtake  one  old  woman,  a  Kussian,  who  cannot  be  less 
than  seventy,  with  a  round  body,  and  legs  as  short  as  ducks'  and 
as  big  as  the  "  limbs  "  of  a  piano.  Her  big  feet  are  encased  in 
straw  shoes,  the  shape  of  a  long  vegetable-dish.  She  wears  a  short 
calico  gown,  an  old  cotton  handkerchief  enwraps  her  gray  head, 
she  cames  on  her  back  a  big  bundle  of  clothing,  an  extra  pair  of 

H 


114  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

straw  shoes,  a  coffee-pot,  and  a  saucepan,  and  she  staggers  under 
a  gi-eat  bundle  of  canes  on  her  shoulder.  Poor  old  pilgrim  !  I 
shoidd  like  to  give  the  old  mother  my  horse  and  ease  her  way  to 
the  heavenly  city ;  but  I  reflect  that  this  would  detract  from  the 
merit  of  her  pilgrimage.  There  are  men  also  as  old  hobbling 
along,  but  usually  not  so  heavily  laden.  One  ancient  couple  are 
riding  in  the  deep  flaps  of  a  pannier,  hanging  each  side  of  a  mule; 
they  can  just  see  each  other  across  the  mule's  back,  but  the  sway- 
ing, sickening  motion  of  the  pannier  evidently  lessens  their  inter- 
est in  life  and  in  each  other. 

Our  Syi'ian  allies  are  as  brave  as  usual.  The  Soudan  babies 
did  not  go  to  the  Jordan  or  the  Dead  Sea,  and  are  consequently 
fresh  and  full  of  antics.  The  Syrian  armament  has  not  thus  far 
been  used;  eagles,  rabbits,  small  game  of  all  sorts,  have  been 
disregarded ;  neither  of  the  men  has  unslung  his  gun  or  drawn 
his  revolvers.  The  hunting  dogs  have  not  once  been  called  on  to 
hunt  anything,  and  now  they  are  so  exhausted  by  the  heat  that 
their  master  is  obliged  to  cany  them  all  the  way  to  Jerusalem ; 
one  of  the  hounds  he  has  in  his  arras  and  the  other  is  slung  in  a 
pannier  under  the  saddle,  his  master's  foot  resting  in  the  other 
side  to  balance  the  dog.  The  poor  creature  looks  out  piteously 
from  his  swinging  cradle.  It  is  the  most  inglorious  hunting- 
expedition  I  have  ever  been  attached  to. 

Our  sheykh  becomes  more  and  more  friendly.  He  rides  up  to 
me  occasionally,  and,  nobly  striking  his  breast,  exclaims,  "  Me  ! 
sheykh,  Jordan,  Jerusalem,  Mar  Saba,  Hebron,  all  round  ;  me, 
big."  Sometimes  he  ends  the  interview  Avith  a  demand  for 
tobacco,  and  again  with  a  hint  of  the  backsheesh  he  expects  in 
Jerusalem.  I  want  to  tell  him  that  he  is  exactly  like  our  stately 
red  man  at  home,  with  his  "  Me  !  Big  Injun.     Chaw-tobac  ?  " 

We  are  very  glad  to  get  out  of  the  heat  at  noon  and  take  shelter 
in  the  rock  grotto  at  the  Red  Khan.  We  sit  here  as  if  in  a  box 
at  the  theatre,  and  sui-vey  the  passing  show.  The  Syro-Phoenician 
woman  smokes  her  narghileh  again,  the  dogs  crouching  at  her 
feet,  and  the  Soudan  babies  are  pretending  to  wait  on  her,  and 
tumbling  over  each  other  and  spilling  everything  they  attempt  to 
cany.     The  woman  says  they  are  great  plagues  to  her,  and  cost 


A   HIGH-SPIRITED    GALGAM.  115 

thirty  napoleons  each  in  Soudan.  As  we  sit  here  after  lunch,  an 
endless  procession  passes  before  us,  —  donkeys,  horses,  camels  in 
long  strings  tied  together,  and  pilgrims  of  all  grades ;  and  as 
they  come  up  the  hill  one  after  the  other,  showing  their  heads 
suddenly,  it  is  just  as  if  they  appeared  on  the  stage ;  and  they  all 
—  Bedaween,  Negroes,  Russians,  Copts,  Circassians,  Greeks,  Sou- 
dan slaves,  and  Arab  masters  —  seem  struck  with  a  "glad  surprise  " 
upon  seeing  us,  and  tarry  long  enough  for  us  to  examine  them. 

Suddenly  presents  himself  a  tall,  gayly  dressed,  slim  fellow 
from  Soudan  (the  slave  of  the  sheykh),  showing  his  white  teeth, 
and  his  face  beaming  with  good-nature.  He  is  so  peculiarly 
black  that  we  ask  him  to  step  forward  for  closer  inspection.  Abd- 
el-Atti,  who  expresses  great  admiration  for  him,  gets  a  coal 
from  the  fire,  and  holds  it  up  by  his  cheek ;  the  skin  has  the 
advantage  of  the  coal,  not  only  in  lustre  but  in  depth  of  black- 
ness. He  says  that  he  is  a  Galgam,  a  tribe  whose  virtues  Abd- 
el-Atti  endorses  :   "  Thim  very  sincere,  trusty,  thim  good  breed." 

When  we  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Galgam  in  this 
thorough  manner,  he  asks  for  backsheesh.  The  Doctor  offers  him 
a  copper  coin.  This,  without  any  offence  in  his  manner,  and  with 
the  utmost  courtesy,  he  refuses,  bows  very  low,  says  "  Thanks," 
with  a  little  irony,  and  turns  away.  In  a  few  moments  he  comes 
back,  opens  his  wallet,  takes  out  two  silver  franc  pieces,  hands 
them  to  the  Doctor,  says  Avith  a  proud  politeness,  "  Backsheesh, 
Bedawee !  "  bows,  runs  across  the  hill,  catches  his  horse,  and 
rides  gallantly  away.  It  is  beautifully  done.  Once  or  twice 
during  the  ride  to  Jerusalem  we  see  him  careering  over  the  hills, 
and  he  approaches  within  hail  at  Bethany,  but  he  does  not  lower 
his  dignity  by  joining  us  again. 

The  heat  is  intense  until  we  reach  the  well  within  a  mile  of 
Bethany,  where  we  find  a  great  concourse  of  exhausted  pdgrims. 
On  the  way,  wherever  there  is  an  open  field  that  admits  of  it,  we 
have  some  display  of  Bedawee  horsemanship.  The  white  Arab 
mare  which  the  sheykh  rides  is  of  pure  blood  and  cost  him  £  200, 
although  I  should  select  her  as  a  broken-down  stage-horse. 
These  people  ride  "  all  abroad,"  so  to  say,  arms,  legs,  accoutre- 
ments flying ;  but  they  stick  on,  which  is  the  principal  thing ; 


116  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

and  the  horses  over  the  rough  ground,  soft  fields,  and  loose 
stones,  run,  stop  short,  wheel  in  a  flash,  and  exhibit  wonderful 
training  and  bottom. 

The  high  opinion  Ave  had  formed  of  the  proud  spirit  and  gener- 
osity of  the  Bedawee,  by  the  incident  at  the  Red  Khan,  was  not 
to  be  maintained  after  our  return  to  Jerusalem.  Another  of  our 
Oriental  illusions  was  to  be  destroyed  forever.  The  cool  accept- 
ance by  the  Doctor  of  the  two  francs  so  loftily  tendered,  as  a 
specimen  of  Bedawee  backsheesh,  was  probably  unexpected,  and 
perhaps  unprovided  for  by  adequate  financial  arrangements  on  the 
part  of  the  Galgam.  At  any  rate,  that  evening  he  was  hovering 
about  the  hotel,  endeavoring  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  Doc- 
tor, and  evidently  unwilling  to  believe  that  there  could  exist  in 
the  heart  of  the  howadji  the  mean  intention  of  retaining  those 
francs.  The  next  morning  he  sent  a  friend  to  the  Doctor  to  ask 
him  foi-  the  money.  The  Doctor  replied  that  he  should  never 
think  of  returning  a  gift,  especially  one  made  with  so  much  cour- 
tesy ;  that,  indeed,  the  amount  of  the  money  Avas  naught,  but  that 
he  should  keep  it  as  a  souvenir  of  the  noble  generosity  of  his  Be- 
dawee friend.  This  sort  of  sentiment  seemed  inexplicable  to  the 
Oriental  mind.  The  son  of  the  desert  was  as  much  astonished 
that  the  Frank  should  retain  his  gift,  as  the  Spanish  gentleman 
who  presents  his  horse  to  his  guest  -would  be  if  the  guest  should 
take  it.  The  offer  of  a  present  in  the  East  is  a  flowery  expres- 
sion of  a  sentiment  that  does  not  exist,  and  its  acceptance  neces- 
sarily implies  a  return  of  something  of  greater  value.  After 
another  day  of  anxiety  the  proud  and  handsome  slave  came  in 
person  and  begged  for  the  francs  until  he  received  them.  He 
was  no  better  than  his  master,  the  noble  sheykh,  who  waylaid  us 
during  the  remainder  of  our  stay  for  additional  sixpences  in  back- 
sheesh. 0  superb  Bedawee,  w-e  did  not  begrudge  the  money, 
but  our  lost  ideal ! 


VI. 

BETHLEHEM  AND   MAR  SAEA. 


BETHLEHEM  lies  about  seven  miles  south  of  Jerusalem.  It 
is  also  a  hill  village,  reposing  upon  a  stony  promontory  that 
is  thrust  out  eastward  from  the  central  mountain-range ;  the  ab- 
rupt slopes  below  three  sides  of  it  are  ten-aced ;  on  the  north  is  a 
valley  which  lies  in  a  direct  line  between  it  and  Jerusalem ;  on 
the  east  are  the  yawning  ravines  and  the  "  wilderness  "  leading  to 
the  Dead  Sea ;  on  the  south  is  the  wild  country  towards  Hebron, 
and  the  sharp  summit  of  the  Frank  mountain  in  the  distance. 
The  village  lies  on  the  ridge ;  and  on  the  point  at  the  east  end 
of  it,  overlooking  a  vast  extent  of  seamed  and  rocky  and  jagged 
country,  is  the  gloomy  pile  of  convents,  chapels,  and  churches 
that  mark  the  spot  of  the  Nativity. 

From  its  earliest  mention  till  now  the  home  of  shepherds  and 
of  hardy  cultivators  of  its  rocky  hillsides,  it  has  been  noted  for 
the  free  spirit  and  turbulence  of  its  inhabitants.  The  primal 
character  of  a  place  seems  to  have  the  power  of  perpetuating  itself 
in  all  changes.  Bethlehem  never  seems  to  have  been  afflicted 
with  servility.  During  the  period  of  David's  hiding  in  the  Cave 
AduUam  the  warlike  Philistines  occupied  it,  but  David  was  a  fit 
representative  of  the  pluck  and  steadfastness  of  its  people.  Since 
the  Christian  era  it  has  been  a  Christian  town,  as  it  is  to-day,  and 
the  few  Moslems  who  have  settled  there,  from  time  to  time,  have 
found  it  more  prudent  to  mthdraw  than  to  brave  its  hostility. 
Its  women  incline  to  be  handsome,  and  have  rather  European 
than  Oriental  features,  and  they  enjoy  the  reputation  of  unusual 
virtue ;  the  men  are  industrious,  and  seem  to  have  more  self- 
respect  than  the  Syrians  generally. 


118  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Bethlehem  is  to  all  the  world  one  of  the  sweetest  of  words.  A 
tender  and  romantic  interest  is  thrown  about  it  as  the  burial- 
place  of  Rachel,  as  the  scene  of  Ruth's  primitive  story,  and  of 
David's  boyhood  and  kingly  consecration ;  so  that  no  other  place 
in  Judaea,  by  its  associations,  was  so  fit  to  be  the  gate  through 
which  the  Divine  Child  should  come  into  the  world.  And  the 
traveller  to-day  can  visit  it,  with,  perhaps,  less  shock  to  his  feel- 
ings of  reverence,  certainly  witli  a  purer  and  simpler  enjoyment, 
than  any  other  place  in  Holy  Land.  He  finds  its  rugged  ness  and 
desolateness  picturesque,  in  the  light  of  old  song  and  story,  and 
even  the  puerile  inventions  of  monkish  credulity  do  not  afiect  him 
as  elsewhere. 

From  Jerusalem  we  reach  Bethlehem  by  following  a  curving 
ridge,  —  a  lovely  upland  ride,  on  account  of  the  extensive  pros- 
pect and  the  breezy,  and  because  it  is  always  a  relief  to  get  out 
of  the  city.  The  country  is,  however,  as  stony  as  the  worst  por- 
tions of  New  England,  —  the  mountain  sheep-pastures ;  thick, 
double  stone-walls  enclosing  small  fields  do  not  begin  to  exhaust 
the  stones.  On  both  sides  of  the  ridge  are  bare,  unproductive 
hills,  but  the  sides  of  the  valleys  are  terraced,  and  covered  with  a 
good  gi-owth  of  olive-trees.  These  hollows  were  no  doubt  once 
very  fruitful  by  assiduous  cultivation,  in  spite  of  the  stones. 
Bethlehem,  as  we  saw  it  across  a  deep  ravine,  was  like  a  castle  on 
a  hill ;  there  is  nowhere  level  ground  enough  for  a  table  to  stand, 
off  the  ridges,  and  we  looked  in  vain  for  the  "  plains  of  Bethle- 
hem "  about  which  we  had  tried,  lioistfully,  to  sing  in  youth. 

Within  a  mile  of  Bethlehem  gate  we  came  to  the  tomb  of 
Rachel,  standing  close  by  the  highway.  "And  Rachel  died,  and 
was  buried  in  the  way  to  Ephrath,  which  is  Beth-lehem.  And 
Jacob  set  a  pillar  upon  her  grave  :  that  is  the  pillar  of  Rachel's 
grave  unto  this  day."  This  is  the  testimony  of  the  author  of 
Genesis,  who  had  not  seen  the  pillar  which  remained  to  liis  day, 
but  repeated  the  tradition  of  the  sons  of  Jacob.  What  remained 
of  this  pillar,  after  the  absence  of  the  Israelites  for  some  five  cen- 
turies from  Bethlehem,  is  uncertain ;  but  it  may  be  supposed  that 
some  spot  near  Bethlehem  was  identified  as  the  tomb  of  Rachel 
upon   their  return,   and   that  the  present   site   is   the  one  then 


THE   TOMB   OF   RACHEL.  119 

selected.  It  is  possible,  of  coiirse,  that  the  tradition  of  the  pagan 
Canaanites  may  have  preserved  the  recollection  of  the  precise  spot. 
At  any  rate,  Christians  seem  to  agree  that  this  is  one  of  the  few 
ancient  sites  in  Judaea  which  are  authentic,  and  the  Moslems  pay 
it  equal  veneration.  The  square,  unpretentious  building  erected 
over  it  is  of  modem  construction,  and  the  pilgrim  has  to  content 
himself  with  looking  at  a  sort  of  Moslem  tomb  inside,  and  reflect- 
ing, if  he  can,  upon  the  pathetic  story  of  the  death  of  the  mother 
of  Joseph. 

There  is,  alas !  everywhere  in  Judaea  something  to  drive  away 
sentiment  as  well  as  pious  feeling.  The  tomb  of  Rachel  is  now 
surrounded  by  a  Moslem  cemetery,  and  as  we  happened  to  be 
there  on  Thursday  we  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
gathering  of  women,  who  had  come  there,  according  to  their 
weekly  custom,  to  weep  and  to  wail. 

You  would  not  see  in  farthest  Nubia  a  more  barbarous  assem- 
blage, and  not  so  fierce  an  one.  In  the  presence  of  these  ^vild 
mourners  the  term  "  gentler  sex  "  has  a  ludicrous  sound.  Yet  we 
ought  not  to  forget  that  we  were  intruders  upon  their  periodic 
grief,  attracted  to  their  religious  demonstration  merely  by  curios- 
ity, and  fairly  entitled  to  nothing  but  scowls  and  signs  of  aversion. 
I  am  sure  that  we  should  give  bold  Moslem  intruders  upon  our 
hours  of  sorrow  at  home  no  better  reception.  The  women  were 
in  the  usual  Syrian  costume ;  their  loose  gowns  gaped  open  at 
the  bosom,  and  they  were  without  veils,  and  made  no  pretence  of 
drawing  a  shawl  before  their  faces ;  all  wore  necklaces  of  coins, 
and  many  of  them  had  circlets  of  coins  on  the  head,  with  strips 
depending  from  them,  also  stiff  with  silver  pieces.  A  woman's 
wortli  was  thus  easily  to  be  reckoned,  for  her  entire  fortune  was 
on  her  head.  A  pretty  face  was  here  and  there  to  be  seen,  but 
most  of  them  were  flaringly  ugly,  and  —  to  liken  them  to  what 
they  most  resembled  —  physically  and  mentally  the  type  of  the 
North  American  squaws.  They  were  accompanied  by  all  their 
children,  and  the  little  brats  were  tumbling  about  the  tombs,  and 
learning  the  language  of  woe. 

Among  the  hundreds  of  women  present,  the  expression  of  grief 
took  two  forms,  —  one  active,  the  other  more  resigned.     A  group 


120  IN   THE  LEVANT. 

seated  itself  about  a  tomb,  and  the  members  swayed  their  bodies 
to  and  fro,  howled  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  and  pretended  to 
weep.  I  had  the  infidel  curiosity  to  go  from  group  to  group  in 
search  of  a  tear,  but  I  did  not  see  one.  Occasionally  some  inter- 
ruption, like  the  arrival  of  a  new  mourner,  would  cause  the  sway- 
ing and  howling  to  cease  for  a  moment,  or  it  would  now  and  then 
be  temporarily  left  to  the  woman  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  but 
presently  all  would  fall  to  again  and  abandon  themselves  to  the 
luxury  of  agony.  It  was  perhaps  unreasonable  to  expect  tears 
from  creatures  so  withered  as  most  of  these  were  ;  but  they  worked 
themselves  into  a  frenzy  of  excitement,  they  rolled  up  their  blue 
checked  cotton  handkerchiefs,  drew  them  across  their  eyes,  and 
then  wi'ung  them  out  with  gestures  of  despair.  It  was  the  drj'est 
grief  I  ever  saw. 

The  more  active  mourners  formed  a  ring  in  a  clear  spot.  Some 
thirty  women  standing  with  their  faces  toward  the  centre,  their 
hands  on  each  other's  shoulders,  circled  round  Avith  unrhythmic 
steps,  crying  and  singing,  and  occasionally  jumping  up  and  down 
with  aU  their  energy,  like  the  dancers  of  Horace,  "  striking  the 
ground  with  equal  feet,"  coming  down  upon  the  earth  with  a 
heavy  thud,  at  the  same  time  slapping  their  faces  with  their 
hands;  then  circling  around  again  with  faster  steps,  and  shriller 
cries,  and  more  prolonged  ululations,  and  anon  pausing  to  jump 
and  beat  the  ground  with  a  violence  sufficient  to  shatter  their 
frames.  The  loose  flowing  robes,  the  clinking  of  the  silver  orna- 
ments, the  wild  gleam  of  their  eyes,  the  Baechantic  madness  of 
their  saltations,  the  shrill  shrieking  and  wailing,  conspired  to  give 
their  demonstration  an  indescribable  barbarity.  This  scene  has 
recurred  every  Thui-sday  for,  I  suppose,  hundreds  of  yeai's,  within 
a  mile  of  the  birthplace  of  Jesus. 

Bethlehem  at  a  little  distance  presents  an  appearance  that  its  in- 
terior does  not  maintain  ;  but  it  is  so  much  better  than  most  Syrian 
villages  of  its  size  (it  has  a  population  of  about  three  thousand), 
and  is  so  much  cleaner  than  Jerusalem,  that  we  are  content  with 
its  ancient  though  commonplace  aspect.  But  the  atmosphere  of 
the  town  is  thorougldy  commercial,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  indus- 
trial ;  you  do  not  find  in  it  that  rural  and  reposeful  air  which  you 


SWEET  RUTH.  121 

associate  with  the  birthplace  of  our  Lord.  The  people  are  sharp, 
to  a  woman,  and  have  a  keen  eye  for  the  purse  of  the  stranger. 
Every  other  house  is  a  shop  for  the  manufacture  or  sale  of  some 
of  the  Bethlehem  specialties,  —  carvings  in  olive-wood  and  ivory 
and  mother-of-pearl,  crosses  and  crucifixes,  and  models  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  and  every  sort  of  sacred  trinket,  and  beads  in 
endless  variety ;  a  little  is  done  also  in  silver-work,  especially  in 
rings.  One  may  chance  upon  a  Mecca  ring  there ;  but  the  ring 
oeculiar  to  Bethlehem  is  a  sUver  wedding-ring ;  it  is  a  broad  and 
ingular  band  of  silver  with  pendants,  and  is  worn  upon  the 
tJumb.  As  soon  as  we  come  into  the  town,  we  are  beset  with 
sellers  of  various  wares,  and  we  never  escape  them  except  when 
we  are  in  the  convent. 

The  Latin  convent  opens  its  doors  to  tourists ;  it  is  a  hospita- 
ble house,  and  the  monks  are  very  civil ;  they  let  us  sit  in  a  salle- 
ct-manger,  whiie  waiting  for  dinner,  that  was  as  damp  and  chill  as 
a  dungeon,  and  they  gave  us  a  well-intended  but  uneatable  meal, 
and  the  most  peculiar  wine,  all  at  a  good  price.  The  wine,  white 
and  red,  was  made  by  the  monks,  they  said  with  some  pride ;  we 
tried  both  kinds,  and  I  can  recommend  it  to  the  American  Tem- 
perance Union  :  if  it  can  be  introduced  to  the  public,  the  public 
will  embrace  total  abstinence  with  enthusiasm. 

"\Yhile  we  were  waiting  for  the  proper  hour  to  visit  the  crypt  of 
the  Nativity,  we  went  out  upon  the  esplanade  before  the  convent, 
and  looked  down  into  the  terraced  ravines  which  are  endeared 
to  us  by  so  many  associations.  Somewhere  down  there  is  the  patch 
of  ground  that  the  mighty  man  of  wealth,  Boaz,  owned,  in  which 
sweet  Ruth  went  gleaning  in  the  barley-harvest.  What  a  picture 
of  a  pi-imitive  time  it  is,  —  the  noonday  meal  of  Boaz  and  his 
handmaidens,  Ruth  invited  to  join  them,  and  dip  her  morsel  in 
the  vinegar  with  the  rest,  and  the  hospitable  Boaz  handing  her 
parched  com.  We  can  understand  why  Ruth  had  good  gleaning 
over  this  stony  ground,  after  the  rakes  of  the  handmaidens.  We 
know  that  her  dress  did  not  differ  from  that  worn  by  Oriental 
women  now ;  for  her  "  veil,"  which  Boaz  filled  with  six  measures 
of  barley,  was  the  head-shawl  still  almost  universally  worn,  — 
though  not  by  the  Bethlehemite  women.  Their  head-dress  is 
6 


122  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

peculiar ;  there  seems  to  be  on  top  of  the  head  a  square  frame, 
and  over  this  is  thrown  and  folded  a  piece  of  white  cloth.  The 
women  are  thus  in  a  manner  crowned,  and  the  dress  is  as  becom- 
ing as  the  somewhat  similar  head-covering  of  the  Roman  peasants. 
We  learn  also  in  the  story  of  Ruth  that  the  mother-in-law  in  her 
day  was  as  wise  in  the  ways  of  men  as  she  is  now.  "  Sit  still, 
my  daughter,"  she  counselled  her  after  she  returned  with  the  veil 
full  of  barley,  "  until  thou  know  how  the  matter  will  fall,  for  the 
man  will  not  be  in  rest  until  he  have  finished  the  thing  this 
day." 

Down  there,  somewhere  in  that  ■wilderness  of  ravines,  David, 
the  great-grandson  of  Ruth,  kept  his  father's  sheep  before  he  went 
to  the  combat  wuth  Goliath.  It  was  there  —  the  grotto  is  shown 
a  little  more  than  a  mile  from  this  convent  —  that  the  shepherds 
watched  their  flocks  by  night  when  the  angel  appeared  and  an- 
nounced the  birth  of  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  David.  We  have 
here  ^vithin  the  gi-asp  of  the  eye  almost  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  the  old  dispensation,  from  the  burial  of  Rachel  to  the  birth 
of  our  Lord,  from  the  passing  of  the  wandering  slieykh,  Jacob, 
with  his  family,  to  the  end  put  to  the  exclusive  pretensions  of  his 
descendants  by  the  coming  of  a  Saviour  to  all  the  world. 

The  cave  called  the  Grotto  of  the  Nativity  has  great  antiquity. 
The  hand-book  says  it  had  this  repute  as  early  as  the  second  cen- 
tury. In  the  year  327  the  mother  of  Constantine  built  a  church 
over  it,  and  this  basilica  still  stands,  and  is  the  oldest  specimen 
of  Christian  architecture  in  existence,  except  perhaps  the  lower 
church  of  St.  Clement  at  Rome.  It  is  the  oldest  basilica  above 
ground  retaining  its  perfect  ancient  form.  The  main  part  of  the 
church  consists  of  a  nave  and  four  aisles,  separated  by  four  rows 
of  Corinthian  marble  columns,  tradition  says,  taken  from  the  tem- 
ple of  Solomon.  The  walls  were  once  adorned  with  mosaics,  but 
only  fragments  of  them  remain  ;  the  roof  is  decayed  and  leaky, 
the  pavement  is  broken.  This  part  of  the  church  is  wholly  neg- 
lected, because  it  belongs  to  the  several  sects  in  common,  and  is 
merely  the  arena  for  an  occasional  fight.  The  choir  is  separated 
from  the  nave  by  a  wall,  and  is  divided  into  two  chapels,  one  of 
the  Greeks,  the  other  of  the  Armenians.      The  Grotto  of  the 


i 


CHURCH   OF  THE   NATIVITY.  123 

Nativity  is  underneath  these  chapels,  and  each  sect  has  a  separate 
staircase  of  descent  to  it.  The  Latin  chapel  is  on  the  north  side 
of  this  choir,  and  it  also  has  a  stairway  to  the  subterranean 
apartments. 

Making  an  effort  to  believe  that  the  stable  of  the  inn  in  Avhich 
Christ  was  born  was  a  small  subterranean  cave  cut  in  the  solid 
rock,  we  descended  a  winding  flight  of  stairs  from  the  Latin 
chapel,  with  a  monk  for  our  guide,  and  entered  a  labyrinth  from 
which  we  did  not  emerge  until  we  reached  the  place  of  the  nativ- 
ity, and  ascended  into  the  Greek  chapel  above  it.  We  walked 
between  glistening  walls  of  rock,  illuminated  by  oil-lamps  here 
and  there,  and  in  our  exploration  of  the  gloomy  passages  and 
chambers,  encountered  shrines,  pictures,  and  tombs  of  the  sainted. 
We  saw,  or  were  told  that  we  saw,  the  spot  to  which  St.  Joseph 
retired  at  the  moment  of  the  nativity,  and  also  the  place  where 
the  twenty  thousand  children  who  were  murdered  by  the  order 
of  Herod  —  a  ghastly  subject  so  well  improved  by  the  painters 
of  the  Eenaissance  —  are  buried.  But  there  was  one  chamber, 
or  rather  vault,  that  we  entered  with  genuine  emotion.  This 
was  the  cell  of  Jerome,  hermit  and  scholar,  whose  writings  have 
gained  him  the  title  of  Father  of  the  Church. 

At  the  close  of  the  fourth  century  Bethlehem  was  chiefly 
famous  as  the  retreat  of  this  holy  student,  and  the  fame  of  his 
learning  and  sanctity  drew  to  it  from  distant  lands  many  faithful 
women,  who  renounced  the  world  and  its  pleasures,  and  were 
content  to  sit  at  his  feet  and  learn  the  way  of  life.  Among  those 
who  resigned,  and,  for  his  sake  and  the  cross,  despised,  the  allure- 
ments and  honors  of  the  Eoman  world,  was  the  devout  Paula, 
a  Roman  matron  who  traced  her  origin  from  Agamemnon,  and 
numbered  the  Scipios  and  Gracchi  among  her  ancestors,  while 
her  husband,  Joxotius,  deduced  a  no  less  royal  lineage  from 
^Eneas.  Her  Avealth  was  sufficient  to  support  the  dignity  of 
such  a  descent ;  among  her  possessions,  an  item  in  her  rent-roll, 
was  the  city  of  Nicopolis,  which  Augustus  built  as  a  monument 
of  the  victory  of  Actium.  By  the  advice  and  in  the  company  of 
Jerome,  her  spiritual  guide,  she  abandoned  Eome  and  all  her  vast 
estates,  and  even  her  infant  son,  and  retired  to  the  holy  village 


124  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

of  Bethlehem.  The  great  Jerome,  who  Avrote  her  biography,  and 
transmitted  the  story  of  her  virtues  to  the  most  distant  ages,  be- 
stowed upon  her  the  singular  title  of  the  Mother-in-law  of  God  ! 
She  was  buried  here,  and  we  look  upon  her  tomb  with  scarcely 
less  interest  than  that  of  Jerome  himself,  who  also  rests  in  this 
thrice  holy  ground.  At  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  when 
the  Goths  sacked  Eome,  a  crowd  of  the  noble  and  the  rich,  escap- 
ing with  nothing  saved  from  the  wreck  but  life  and  honor,  at- 
tracted also  by  the  reputation  of  Jerome,  appeared  as  beggars  in 
the  streets  of  this  humble  village.  No  doubt  they  thronged  to 
the  cell  of  the  venerable  father. 

There  is,  I  suppose,  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  study  in  which  he 
composed  many  of  his  more  important  treatises.  It  is  a  vaulted 
chamber,  about  twenty  feet  square  by  nine  feet  high.  There  is 
in  Venice  a  picture  of  the  study  of  Jerome,  painted  by  Carpaccio, 
Avhich  represents  a  delightful  apartment ;  the  saint  is  seen  in  his 
study,  in  a  rich  neglige  robe  ;  at  the  side  of  his  desk  are  musical 
instruments,  music-stands,  and  sheets  of  music,  as  if  he  were 
accustomed  to  give  soirees  ;  on  the  chimney-piece  are  Greek  vases 
and  other  objects  of  virtu,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room  is  a 
poodle-dog  of  the  most  worldly  and  useless  of  the  canine  breed. 
The  artist  shoidd  have  seen  the  real  study  of  the  hermit, —  a  grim, 
unornamented  vault,  in  which  he  passed  his  days  in  mortifications 
of  the  body,  hearing  always  ringing  in  his  ears,  in  his  disordered 
mental  and  physical  condition,  the  last  trump  of  judgment. 

We  passed,  groping  our  way  along  in  this  religious  cellar, 
through  a  winding,  narrow  passage  in  the  rock,  some  twenty-five 
feet  long,  and  came  into  the  place  of  places,  the  very  Chapel  of 
the  Nativity.  In  this  low  vault,  thirty-eight  feet  long  and  eleven 
feet  wide,  hewn  in  the  rock,  is  an  altar  at  one  end.  Before  this 
altar  —  and  we  can  see  everjiliing  with  distinctness,  for  sixteen 
silver  lamps  are  burning  about  it  —  there  is  a  marble  slab  in  the 
pavement  into  which  is  let  a  silver  star,  with  this  sentence  round 
it :  Hie  de  Virgine  Maria  Jesus  Christus  natus  est.  The  guar- 
dian of  this  sacred  spot  was  a  Turkish  soldier,  who  stood  there 
with  his  gun  and  fixed  bayonet,  an  attitude  which  experience  has 
taught  him  is  necessary  to  keep  the  peace  among  the  Christians 


THE   MILK   GROTTO.  125 

who  meet  here.  The  altar  is  without  furniture,  and  is  draped  by 
each  sect  which  uses  it  in  turn.  Near  by  is  the  chapel  of  the 
"manger,"  but  the  manger  in  which  Christ  was  laid  is  in  the 
church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore  in  Kome. 

There  is  in  Bethlehem  another  ancient  cave  which  is  almost  as 
famous  as  that  of  the  Nativity ;  it  is  called  the  Milk  Grotto,  and 
during  all  ages  of  the  Chui'ch  a  most  marvellous  virtue  has  attached 
to  it ;  fragments  of  the  stone  have  been,  and  still  continue  to  be, 
broken  off  and  sent  into  all  Christian  countries  ;  women  also  make 
pilgrimages  to  it  in  faith.  The  grotto  is  on  the  edge  of  the  town 
overlooking  the  eastern  ravines,  and  is  arranged  as  a  show-place. 
In  our  Avalk  thither  a  stately  Bedawee,  as  by  accident,  fell  into  our 
company,  and  acted  as  our  cicerone.  He  was  desirous  that  we 
should  know  that  he  also  was  a  man  of  the  world  and  of  travel, 
and  rated  at  its  proper  value  this  little  corner  of  the  earth.  He 
had  served  in  the  French  army  and  taken  part  in  many  battles, 
and  had  been  in  Paris  and  seen  the  tomb  of  the  great  emperor,  — 
ah,  there  was  a  man  !  As  to  this  grotto,  they  say  that  the  Virgin 
used  to  send  to  it  for  milk,  —  many  think  so.  As  for  him,  he 
was  a  soldier,  and  did  not  much  give  his  mind  to  such  things. 

This  grotto  is  an  excavation  in  the  chalky  rock,  and  might  be 
a  ver}'  good  place  to  store  milk,  but  for  the  popular  prejudice  in 
cities  against  chalk  and  water.  We  entered  it  through  the  court 
of  a  private  house,  and  the  damsel  who  admitted  us  also  assured 
us  that  the  Virgin  procured  milk  from  it.  The  tradition  is  that 
the  Virgin  and  Child  were  concealed  here  for  a  time  before  the 
flight  into  Egypt ;  and  ever  since  then  its  stone  has  the  miracu- 
lous power  of  increasing  the  flow  of  the  maternal  breast.  The 
early  fathers  encouraged  this  and  the  like  superstitions  in  the 
docile  minds  of  their  fair  converts,  and  themselves  testified  to  the 
efficacy  of  this  remarkable  stone.  These  superstitions  belong 
rather  to  the  Orient  than  to  any  form  of  religion.  There  is  a 
famous  spring  at  Assiout  in  Egypt  which  was  for  centuries  much 
resorted  to  by  ladies  who  desired  offspring ;  and  the  Arabs  on  the 
Upper  Nile  to-day,  who  wish  for  an  heir  male,  resort  to  a  plant 
which  grows  in  the  remote  desert,  rare  and  difficult  to  find,  the 
leaves  of  which  are  "good  for  boys."     This  grotto  scarcely  re- 


126  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

pays  the  visit,  except  for  the  view  one  obtains  of  the  wild  country 
below  it.  When  we  bade  good  by  to  the  courtly  Arab,  we  had 
too  much  delicacy  to  offer  money  to  such  a  gentleman  and  a  sol- 
dier of  the  empire  ;  a  delicacy  not  shared  by  him,  however,  for  he 
let  no  false  modesty  hinder  a  request  for  a  little  backsheesh  for 
tobacco. 

On  our  return,  and  at  some  distance  from  the  gate,  we  diverged 
into  a  lane,  and  sought,  in  a  rocky  field,  the  traditional  well  whose 
waters  David  longed  for  when  he  was  in  the  Cave  of  AduUam,  — 
"  O  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Beth- 
lehem, which  is  by  the  gate !  "  Howbeit,  when  the  three  mighty 
men  had  broken  through  the  Philistine  guards  and  procured  him 
the  water,  David  would  not  drink  that  which  was  brought  at  such 
a  sacrifice.  Two  vwy  comely  Bethlehem  girls  hastened  at  our 
approach  to  draw  water  from  the  well  and  gave  us  to  drink,  with 
all  the  freedom  of  Oriental  hospitality,  in  which  there  is  always 
an  expectation  of  backsheesh.  The  water  is  at  any  rate  very  good, 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  these  pretty  girls  should  not  turn  an 
honest  penny  upon  the  strength  of  David's  thirst,  whether  this  be 
the  well  whose  water  he  desired  or  not.  We  were  only  too  thank- 
ful that  no  miraculous  property  is  attributed  to  its  waters.  As 
we  returned,  we  had  the  evening  light  upon  the  gray  walls  and 
towers  of  the  city,  and  were  able  to  invest  it  with  something  of  its 
historical  dignity. 

The  next  excursion  that  we  made  from  Jerusalem  was  so  differ- 
ent from  the  one  to  Bethlehem,  that  by  way  of  contrast  I  put 
them  together.  It  was  to  the  convent  of  Mar  Saba,  which  lies  in 
the  wilderness  towards  the  Dead  Sea,  about  two  hours  and  a  lialf 
from  the  city. 

In  those  good  old  days,  when  piety  was  measured  by  frugality 
in  the  use  of  the  bath,  when  the  holy  fathers  praised  most  those 
hermits  who  washed  least,  when  it  might  perhaps  be  the  boast 
of  more  than  one  virgin,  devoted  to  the  ascetic  life,  that  she  had 
lived  fifty-eight  years  during  which  water  had  touched  neither  her 
hands,  her  face,  her  feet,  nor  any  part  of  her  body,  Palestine  was, 
after  Egypt,  the  favorite  resort  of  the  fanatical,  the  unfortunate, 
and  the  lazy,  who,  gathered  into  communities,  or  dwelling  in  sol- 


THE  CONVENT   OF  MAR   SABA.  127 

itary  caves,  offered  to  the  barbarian  world  a  spectacle  of  supersti- 
tion and  abasement  under  the  name  of  Christianity.  But  of  the 
swarm  of  hermits  and  monks  who  begged  in  the  cities  and  bur- 
rowed in  the  caves  of  the  Holy  Land  in  the  fifth  century,  no  one 
may  perhaps  be  spoken  of  with  more  respect  than  St.  Sabas,  who, 
besides  a  reputation  for  sanctity,  has  left  that  of  manliness  and  a 
virile  ability,  which  his  self-mortifications  did  not  extii-pate.  And 
of  all  the  monasteries  of  that  period,  that  of  Mar  Saba  is  the  only 
one  in  Judaea  which  has  preserved  almost  unbroken  the  type  of 
that  time.  St.  Sabas  was  a  Cappadocian  who  came  to  Palestine  in 
search  of  a  permanent  retreat,  savage  enough  to  satisfy  his  austere 
soul.  He  found  it  in  a  cave  in  one  of  the  wildest  gorges  in  this 
most  desolate  of  lands,  a  ravine  which  opens  into  the  mountains 
from  the  brook  Kidron.  The  fame  of  his  zeal  and  piety  attracted 
thousands  to  his  neighborhood,  so  that  at  one  time  there  were 
almost  as  many  hermits  roosting  about  in  the  rocks  near  him  as 
there  are  inhabitants  in  the  city  of  Jerusalem  now.  He  was  once 
enabled  to  lead  an  army  of  monks  to  that  city  and  chastise  the 
Monophysite  heretics.  His  cave  in  the  steep  side  of  a  rocky  preci- 
pice became  the  nucleus  of  his  convent,  which  grew  around  it  and 
attached  itself  to  the  face  of  the  rock  as  best  it  could.  For  the 
convent  of  Mar  Saba  is  not  a  building,  nor  a  collection  of  build- 
ings, so  much  as  it  is  a  group  of  nests  attached  to  the  side  of  a 
precipice. 

It  was  a  bright  Saturday  afternoon  that  a  young  divinity  stu- 
dent and  I,  taking  the  volatile  Demetrius  Avith  us  for  interpreter, 
rode  out  of  St.  Stephen's  gate,  into  Jehoshaphat,  past  the  gray  field 
of  Jewish  graves,  down  through  Tophet  and  the  wild  ravine  of 
the  Kidron. 

It  is  unpleasant  to  interrupt  the  prosperous  start  of  a  pilgrim- 
age by  a  trifling  incident,  but  at  our  first  descent  and  the  slightest 
tension  on  the  bridle-reins  of  my  horse,  they  parted  from  the  bit. 
This  accident,  which  might  be  serious  in  other  lands,  is  of  the 
sort  that  is  anticipated  here,  and  I  may  say  assured,  by  the  fore- 
thought of  the  owners  of  saddle-horses.  Upon  dismounting  with 
as  much  haste  as  dignity,  I  discovered  that  the  reins  had  been 
fastened  to  the  bit  by  a  single  rotten  string  of  cotton.     Luckily 


128  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

the  horse  I  rode  was  not  an  animal  to  take  advantage  of  the  weak- 
ness of  his  toggery.  He  was  a  Syrian  horse,  a  light  sorrel,  and 
had  no  one  of  the  good  points  of  a  horse  except  the  name  and 
general  shape.  His  walk  was  slow  and  reluctant,  his  trot  a  high 
and  non-progressive  jolt,  his  gaUop  a  large  up-and-down  agitation. 
To  his  bridle  of  strings  and  shreds  no  martingale  was  attached  ; 
no  horse  in  Syria  is  subject  to  that  restraint.  When  I  pull  the 
bit  he  sticks  up  his  nose  ;  when  I  switch  him  he  kicks.  When  I 
hold  him  in,  he  won't  go ;  when  I  let  him  loose,  he  goes  on  his 
nose.  I  dismount  and  look  at  him  with  curiosity ;  I  wonder  all 
the  journey  what  his  forte  is,  but  I  never  discover.  I  conclude 
that  he  is  like  the  emperor  Honorius,  whom  Gibbon  stigmatizes  as 
"  without  passions,  and  consequently  without  talents." 

Yet  he  was  not  so  bad  as  the  roads,  and  perhaps  no  horse 
would  do  much  better  on  these  stony  and  broken  foot-paths. 
This  horse  is  not  a  model  (for  anything  but  a  clothes-horse),  but 
from  my  observation  I  think  that  great  injustice  has  been  done  to 
Syrian  horses  by  travellers,  who  have  only  themselves  to  blame 
for  accidents  which  bring  the  horses  into  disrepute.  Travellers 
are  thrown  from  these  steeds ;  it  is  a  daily  occurrence ;  we  heard 
continually  that  somebody  had  a  fall  from  his  horse  on  his  way  to 
the  Jordan,  or  to  Mar  Saba,  or  to  Nablous,  and  was  laid  up,  and 
it  was  always  in  consequence  of  a  vicious  brute.  The  fact  is  that 
excellent  ministers  of  the  gospel  and  doctors  of  divinity  and  stu- 
dents of  the  same,  who  have  never  in  their  lives  been  on  the  back 
of  a  horse  in  aviy  other  land,  seem  to  think  when  they  come  here 
that  the  holy  air  of  Palestine  will  transform  them  into  accom- 
plished horsemen ;  or  perhaps  they  are  emulous  of  Elisha,  that 
they  may  go  to  heaven  by  means  of  a  fiery  steed. 

Por  a  while  we  had  the  company  of  the  singing  brook  Kidron, 
fiowino;  clear  over  the  stones ;  then  we  left  the  ravine  and  wound 
over  rocky  steeps,  which  afforded  us  fine  views  of  broken  hills  and 
interlacing  ridges,  and  when  we  again  reached  the  valley  the  brook 
had  disappeared  in  the  thirsty  ground.  The  road  is  strewn,  not 
paved,  with  stones,  and  in  many  places  hardly  practicable  for 
horses.  Occasionally  we  encountered  flocks  of  goats  and  of  long- 
wooled  sheep  feeding  on  the  scant  grass  of  the  hills,  and  tended 


BEDAWEEN   CAMPS.  129 

by  boys  in  tbe  coarse  brown  and  striped  garments  of  the  countiy, 
which  give  a  state-prison  aspect  to  most  of  the  inhabitants,  — 
but  there  was  no  other  life,  and  no  trees  offer  relief  to  the  hard 
landscape.  But  the  way  was  now  and  then  bright  with  flowers, 
thickly  carpeted  with  scarlet  anemones,  the  Star  of  Bethlehem, 
and  tiny  dandelions.  Two  hours  from  the  city  we  passed  several 
camps  of  Bedaween,  their  brown  low  camel's-hair  tents  pitched 
among  the  rocks  and  scarcely  distinguishable  in  the  sombre  land- 
scape. About  the  tents  were  grouped  camels  and  donkeys,  and 
from  them  issued  and  pursued  us  begging  boys  and  girls.  A  lazy 
Bedawee  appeared  here  and  there  with  a  long  gun,  and  we  could 
imagine  that  this  gloomy  region  might  be  unsafe  after  nightfall ; 
but  no  danger  ever  seems  possible  in  such  bright  sunshine  and 
under  a  sky  so  blue  and  friendly. 

When  a  half-hour  from  the  convent,  we  turned  to  the  right 
from  the  road  to  the  Dead  Sea,  and  ascending  a  steep  hill  found 
ourselves  riding  along  the  edge  of  a  deep  winding  gorge  ;  a  brook 
flows  at  the  bottom,  and  its  sides  are  sheer  precipices  of  rock, 
generally  parallel,  but  occasionally  widening  into  amphitheatres 
of  the  most  fantastic  rocky  formation.  It  is  on  one  side  of  this 
narrow  ravine  that  the  convent  is  built,  partly  excavated  in  the 
rock,  partly  resting  on  jutting  ledges,  and  partly  hung  out  in  the 
form  of  balconies,  —  buildings  clinging  to  the  steep  side  like  a 
comb  of  wild  bees  or  wasps  to  a  rock. 

Our  first  note  of  approach  to  it  was  the  sight  of  a  square  tower 
and  of  the  roofs  of  buildings  below  us.  Descending  from  the  road 
by  several  short  turns,  and  finally  by  two  steep  paved  inclines,  we 
came  to  a  lofty  wall  in  which  is  a  small  iron  door.  As  we  could 
go  no  farther  without  aid  from  within,  Demetrius  shouted,  and 
soon  we  had  a  response  from  a  slit  in  the  wall  fifty  feet  above  us 
to  the  left.  We  could  see  no  one,  but  the  voice  demanded  who 
we  were,  and  whether  we  had  a  pass.  Above  the  slit  from  which 
the  angelic  voice  proceeded  a  stone  projected,  and  in  this  was  an 
opening  for  letting  down  or  drawing  up  articles.  This  habit  of 
caution  in  regard  to  who  or  what  shall  come  into  the  convent  is 
of  course  a  relic  of  the  gone  ages  of  tumult,  but  it  is  still  neces- 
sary as  a  safeguard  against  the  wandering  Bedaween,  who  would 
6*  I 


130  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

no  doubt  find  means  to  plunder  the  convent  of  its  great  wealth  of 
gold,  silver,  and  jewels  if  they  were  not  at  all  times  rigorously 
excluded.  The  convent  with  its  walls  and  towers  is  still  a  fortress 
strong  enough  to  resist  any  irregular  attempts  of  the  wandering 
tribes.  It  is  also  necessary  to  strictly  guard  the  convent  against 
women,  who  in  these  days  of  speculation,  if  not  scientific  curiosity, 
often  knock  impatiently  and  angrily  at  its  gates,  and  w'ho,  if  ad- 
mitted, would  in  one  gay  and  chatty  hour  destroy  the  spell  of 
holy  seclusion  which  has  been  unbroken  for  one  thousand  three 
hundred  and  ninety -two  years.  I  know  that  sometimes  it  seems 
an  unjust  ordination  of  Providence  that  a  woman  cannot  be  a  man, 
but  I  cannot  join  those  who  upbraid  the  monks  of  Mar  Saba  for 
inhospitality  because  they  refuse  to  admit  women  under  any  cir- 
cumstances into  the  precincts  of  the  convent ;  if  I  do  not  sympa- 
thize with  the  brothers,  I  can  understand  their  adhesion  to  the 
last  shred  of  man's  independence,  Avhich  is  only  to  be  maintained 
by  absolute  exclusion  of  the  other  sex.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
revive  the  defamation  of  the  early  Christian  ages,  that  the  devil 
appeared  oftener  to  the  hermit  in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman 
than  in  any  other ;  but  we  may  not  regret  that  there  is  still  one 
spot  on  the  face  of  tlie  earth,  if  it  is  no  bigger  than  the  sod  upon 
which  Noah's  pioneer  dove  alighted,  in  which  weak  men  may  be 
safe  from  the  temptation,  the  criticism,  and  the  curiosity  of  the 
superior  being.  There  is  an  airy  tower  on  the  rocks  outside  the 
walls  which  women  may  occupy  if  they  cannot  restrain  their  de- 
sire to  lodge  in  this  neighborhood,  or  if  night  overtakes  them  here 
on  their  way  from  the  Dead  Sea ;  there  Madame  Pfeitfer,  Miss 
Martineau,  and  other  famous  travellers  of  their  sex  have  found 
refuge,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  abused  their  proximity  to  this  re- 
treat of  shuddering  man  by  estimating  the  piety  of  its  inmates 
according  to  their  hospitality  to  women.  So  far  as  I  can  learn, 
this  convent  of  Mar  Saba  is  now  the  only  retreat  left  on  this  broad 
earth  for  Man  ;  and  it  seems  to  me  only  i-easonable  that  it  should 
be  respected  by  his  generous  and  gentle,  though  inquisitive  foe. 

After  further  parley  with  Demetrius  and  a  considerable  interval, 
we  heard  a  bell  ring,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  iron  door  opened, 
and  we  entered,  stepping  our  horses  carefully  over  the  stone  thresh- 


CONVENT  FARE.  131 

old,  and  showing  our  pass  from  the  Jerusalem  Patriarch  to  an 
attendant,  and  came  into  a  soit  of  stable  hewn  in  the  rock.  Here 
we  abandoned  our  horses,  and  Avere  taken  in  charge  by  a  monk 
whom  the  bell  had  summoned.  fi"om  below.  He  conducted  us 
down  several  long  flights  of  zigzag  stairs  in  the  rock,  amid  hang- 
ing buildings  and  cells,  until  we  came  to  what  appears  to  be  a 
broad  ledge  in  the  precipice,  and  found  ourselves  in  the  central 
part  of  this  singular  hive,  that  is,  in  a  small  court,  with  cells  and 
rocks  on  one  side  and  the  convent  church,  which  overhangs  the 
precipice,  on  the  other.  Beside  the  church  and  also  at  another 
side  of  the  court  are  buildings  in  which  pilgrims  are  lodged,  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  court  is  the  tomb  of  St.  Sabas  himself. 
Here  our  passports  were  examined,  and  w-e  were  assigned  a  cheer- 
ful and  airy  room  looking  upon  the  court  and  tomb. 

One  of  the  brothers  soon  brought  us  coffee,  and  the  promptness 
of  this  hospitality  augured  well  for  the  remainder  of  our  fare ;  re- 
lying upon  the  reputation  of  the  convent  for  good  cheer,  we  had 
brought  nothing  with  us,  not  so  much  as  a  biscuit.  Judge  of  our 
disgust,  then,  at  iiearing  the  following  dialogue  between  Demetrius 
and  the  Greek  monk. 

"  What  time  can  the  gentlemen  dine?  " 

"  Any  time  they  like." 

"  What  have  you  for  dinner  ?  " 

"Nothing." 

"  You  can  give  us  no  dinner?  " 

"  To  be  sure  not.     It  is  fast." 

"  But  we  have  n't  a  morsel,  we  shall  starve." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  find  a  little  bread." 

"  Nothing  else  ?  " 

"  We  have  very  good  raisins." 

"  Well,"  we  interposed,  "  kill  us  a  chicken,  give  us  a  few  oys- 
ters, stewed  or  broiled,  we  are  not  particidar."  This  le^'ity,  which 
was  bom  of  desperation,  for  the  jolting  ride  from  Jerusalem  had 
indisposed  us  to  keep  a  fast,  especially  a  fast  established  by  a 
church  the  orthodoxy  of  whose  creed  we  had  strong  reasons  to 
doubt,  did  not  affect  the  monk.  He  replied,  "  Chicken  !  it  is  im- 
possible."    We  shrunk  our  requisition  to  eggs. 


132  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

"  If  I  can  find  an  egg,  I  will  see."  And  the  brother  departed, 
with  carte  blanche  from  us  to  squeeze  his  entire  establishment. 

Alas,  fasting  is  not  in  Mar  Saba  what  it  is  in  New  England, 
where  an  appointed  fast-day  is  hailed  as  an  opportunity  to  forego 
lunch  in  order  to  have  an  extraordinary  appetite  for  a  better  din- 
ner than  usual ! 

The  tomb  of  St.  Sabas,  the  central  worship  of  this  hive,  is  a 
little  plastered  hut  in  the  middle  of  the  court ;  the  interior  is 
decorated  with  pictures  in  the  Byzantine  style,  and  a  lamp  is 
always  burning  there.  As  we  stood  at  the  tomb  we  heard  voices 
chanting,  and,  turning  towards  the  rock,  we  saw  a  door  from  which 
the  sound  came.  Pushing  it  open,  we  were  admitted  into  a  large 
chapel,  excavated  in  the  rock.  The  service  of  vespers  was  in 
progress,  and  a  band  of  Russian  pilgrims  were  chanting  in  rich 
bass  voices,  producing  more  melody  than  I  had  ever  heard  in 
a  Greek  church.  The  excavation  extends  some  distance  into  the 
hill ;  we  were  shown  the  cells  of  St.  John  of  Damascus  and  other 
hermits,  and  at  the  end  a  charnel-house  piled  full  of  the  bones  of 
men.  In  the  dim  light  their  skulls  grinned  at  us  in  a  horrid 
familiarity ;  in  that  ghastly  jocularity  which  a  skuU  always  puts 
on,  with  a  kind  of  mocking  commentary  upon  the  strong  chant  of 
the  pilgrims,  which  reverberated  in  all  the  recesses  of  the  gloomy 
cave,  —  fresh,  hearty  voices,  such  as  these  skuUs  have  heard  (if 
they  can  hear)  for  many  centuries.  The  pilgrims  come,  and 
'chant,  and  depart,  generation  after  generation ;  the  bones  and 
skulls  of  the  fourteen  thousand  martyrs  in  this  charnel-bin  enjoy 
a  sort  of  repulsive  immortality.  The  monk,  who  was  out  guide, 
appeared  to  care  no  more  for  the  remains  of  the  martyrs  than  for 
the  presence  of  the  pilgrims.  In  visiting  such  storehouses  one 
cannot  but  be  struck  by  the  light  familiarity  with  the  relics  and 
insignia  of  death  which  the  monks  have  acquired. 

This  St.  John  of  Damascus,  whose  remains  repose  here,  was  a 
fiery  character  in  his  day,  and  favored  by  a  special  miracle  before 
he  became  a  saint.  He  so  distinguished  himself  by  his  invectives 
against  Leo  and  Constantine  and  other  iconoclast  emperors  at 
Constantinople  who,  in  the  eighth  century,  attempted  to  extir- 
pate image-worship  from  the  Catholic  church,  that  he  was  sen- 


I 


MONKS   AND   BIRDS.  133 

tenced  to  lose  his  right  hand.  The  story  is  that  it  was  instantly 
restored  by  the  Virgin  Mary.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  su- 
perstitious Orient  more  readily  gave  up  idolatry  or  image-worship 
under,  the  Moslems  than  under  the  Christians. 

As  the  sun  was  setting  we  left  the  pilgrims  chanting  to  the 
martyrs,  and  hastened  to  explore  the  premises  a  little,  before  the 
light  should  fade.  We  followed  our  guide  up  stairs  and  down 
stairs,  sometimes  cut  in  the  stone,  sometimes  wooden  stairways, 
along  hanging  galleries,  through  corridors  hewn  in  the  rock,  amid 
cells  and  little  chapels,  —  a  most  uitricate  labyrinth,  in  which  the 
uninitiated  would  soon  lose  his  way.  Here  and  there  we  came 
suddenly  upon  a  little  garden  spot  as  big  as  a  bed-blanket,  a  ledge 
upon  which  soil  had  been  deposited.  We  walked  also  under 
grape-trellises,  we  saw  orange-trees,  and  the  single  palm-tree 
that  the  convent  boasts,  said  to  have  been  planted  by  St.  Sabas 
himself.  The  plan  of  this  establishment  gradually  developed 
itself  to  us.  It  differs  from  an  ordinary  convent  chiefly  in  this,  — 
the  latter  is  spread  out  fiat  on  the  earth.  Mar  Saba  is  set  up 
edgewise.  Put  Mar  Saba  on  a  plain,  and  these  little  garden 
spots  and  graperies  would  be  courts  and  squares  amid  buildings, 
these  galleries  would  be  bridges,  these  cells  or  horizontal  caves 
would  be  perpendicular  tombs  and  reservoirs. 

When  we  arrived,  we  supposed  that  we  were  almost  the  only 
guests.  But  we  found  that  the  place  was  full  of  Greek  and  Rus- 
sian pilgrims ;  we  encountered  them  on  the  terraces,  on  the  flat 
roofs,  in  the  caves,  and  in  all  out-of-the-way  nooks.  Yet  these 
were  not  the  most  pleasing  nor  the  most  animated  tenants  of  the 
place ;  wherever  we  went  the  old  rookery  was  made  cheerful  by 
the  twittering  notes  of  black  birds  with  yellow  wings,  a  species  of 
grakle,  which  the  monks  have  domesticated,  and  which  breed  in 
great  numbers.  Steeled  as  these  good  brothers  are  against  the 
other  sex,  we  were  glad  to  discover  this  streak  of  softness  in  their 
nature.  High  up  on  the  precipice  there  is  a  bell-tower  attached 
to  a  little  chapel,  and  in  it  hang  twenty  small  bells,  which  are  rung 
to  call  the  inmates  to  prayer.  Even  at  this  height,  and  indeed 
wherever  we  penetrated,  we  were  followed  by  the  monotonous 
chant  which  issued  from  the  charnel-house. 


134  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

We  passed  by  a  long  row  of  cells  occupied  by  the  monks,  but 
were  not  permitted  to  look  into  them ;  nor  were  we  allowed  to 
see  the  library,  which  is  said  to  be  rich  in  illuminated  manuscripts. 
The  convent  belongs  to  the  Greek  church ;  its  monks  take  the 
usual  vows  of  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience,  and  fortify  them- 
selves in  their  holiness  by  opposing  walls  of  adamant  to  all 
womankind.  There  are  about  fifty  monks  here  at  present,  and 
uncommonly  fine-looking  fellows,  —  not  at  all  the  gross  and  greasy 
sort  of  monk  that  is  sometimes  met.  Their  outward  dress  is 
very  neat,  consisting  of  a  simple  black  gown  and  a  round,  high, 
flat-topped  black  cap. 

Our  dinner,  when  it  was  brought  into  our  apartment,  answered 
very  well  one's  idea  of  a  dessert,  but  it  was  a  very  good  Oriental 
dinner.  The  chief  articles  were  a  piece  of  hard  black  bread,  and 
two  boiled  eggs,  cold,  and  probably  brought  by  some  pilgrim 
from  Jerusalem ;  but  besides,  .there  Avere  i-aisins,  cheese,  figs, 
oranges,  a  bottle  of  golden  wine,  and  tea.  The  wine  was  worthy 
to  be  celebrated  in  classic  verse ;  none  so  good  is,  I  am  sure, 
made  elsewhere  in  Syria ;  it  was  liquid  sunshine ;  and  as  it  was 
manufactured  by  the  monks,  it  gave  us  a  new  respect  for  their 
fastidious  taste. 

The  vaulted  chamber  which  we  occupied  was  furnished  on 
three  sides  with  a  low  divan,  which  answered  the  double  purpose 
of  chairs  and  couch.  On  one  side,  however,  and  elevated  in  the 
wall,  was  a  long  niche,  exactly  like  the  recessed  tombs  in  cathe- 
drals, upon  which,  toes  turned  up,  lie  the  bronze  or  wooden  figures 
of  the  occupants.  This  was  the  bed  of  honor.  It  was  furnished 
with  a  mattress  and  a  thick  counterpane  having  one  sheet  sewed 
to  it.  With  reluctance  I  accepted  the  distinction  of  climbing  into 
it,  and  there  I  slept,  laid  out,  for  all  the  world,  like  my  own 
effigy.  From  the  ceding  hung  a  dim  oil-lamp,  Avhich  cast  a  gloom 
rather  than  a  light  upon  our  sepulchral  place  of  repose.  Our 
windows  looked  out  towards  the  west,  upon  the  court,  upon  the 
stairs,  upon  the  terraces,  roofs,  holes,  caves,  grottos,  wooden  bal- 
conies, bird-cages,  steps  entering  the  rock  and  leading  to  cells ; 
and,  towards  the  south,  along  the  jagged  precipice.  The  conveut 
occupies  the  precipice  from  the  top  nearly  to  the  "bottom  of  the 


A  MIDNIGHT   REVEILLE.  135 

ravine ;  the  precipice  opposite  is  nearly  pei'pendicular,  close  at 
hand,  and  permits  no  view  in  that  direction.  Heaven  is  the  only 
object  in  sight  from  this  retreat. 

Before  the  twilight  fell  the  chanting  was  still  going  on  in  the 
cavern,  monks  and  pilgrims  were  gliding  about  the  court,  and 
numbers  of  the  latter  were  clustered  in  the  vestibule  of  the  church, 
in  which  they  were  settling  doAvn  to  lodge  for  the  night ;  and 
high  above  us  I  saw  three  gaudily  attired  Bedaween,  who  had 
accompanied  some  travellers  from  the  Dead  Sea,  leaning  over  the 
balustrade  of  the  stairs,  and  regarding  the  scene  with  Moslem 
complacency.     The  hive  settled  slowly  to  rest. 

But  the  place  was  by  no  means  still  at  night.  There  was  in 
the  court  an  old  pilgrim  who  had  brought  a  cough  from  the  heart 
of  Russia,  who  seemed  to  be  trying  to  cough  himself  inside  out. 
There  were  other  noises  that  could  not  be  explained.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  clattering  about  in  wooden  shoes.  Every  sound 
was  multiplied  and  reduplicated  from  the  echoing  rocks.  The 
strangeness  of  the  situation  did  not  conduce  to  sleep,  not  even 
to  an  effigy-like  repose ;  but  after  looking  from  the  window  upon 
the  march  of  the  quiet  stars,  after  watching  the  new  moon  dis- 
appear between  the  roofs,  and  after  seeing  that  the  door  of  St. 
Sabas's  tomb  was  closed,  although  his  light  was  still  burning,  I 
turned  in ;  and  after  a  time,  during  which  I  was  conscious  that 
not  even  vows  of  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience  are  respected 
by  fleas,  I  fell  into  a  light  sleep. 

Prom  this  I  was  aroused  by  a  noise  that  seemed  like  the  call 
to  judgment,  by  the  most  clamorous  jangle  of  discordant  bells, — 
all  the  twenty  were  ringing  at  once,  and  each  in  a  different  key. 
It  was  not  simply  a  din,  it  was  an  earthquake  of  sound.  The 
peals  were  echoed  from  the  opposite  ledges,  and  reverberated 
among  the  rocks  and  caves  and  sharp  angles  of  the  convent, 
until  the  crash  was  intolerable.  It  was  worse  than  the  slam, 
bang,  shriek,  clang,  clash,  roar,  dissonance,  thunder,  and  hurricane 
with  which  all  musicians  think  it  absolutely  necessary  to  close 
any  overture,  symphony,  or  musical  composition  whatever,  how- 
ever decent  and  quiet  it  may  be.  It  was  enough  to  rouse  the 
deafest  pilgrim,' to  wake  the  dead  martyrs  and  set  the  fourteen 


136  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

thousand  skulls  hunting  for  their  bones,  to  call  even  St.  Sabas 
himself  from  his  tomb.  I  arose.  I  saw  in  the  starlight  figures 
moving  about  the  court,  monks  in  their  simple  black  gowns.  It 
was,  I  comprehended  then,  the  call  to  midnight  prayer  in  the 
chapel,  and,  resolved  not  to  be  disturbed  further  by  it,  I  climbed 
back  into  my  tomb. 

But  the  clamor  continued ;  I  heard  such  a  clatter  of  hobnailed 
shoes  on  the  pavement,  besides,  that  I  could  bear  it  no  longer,  got 
up,  slipped  into  some  of  my  clothes,  opened  the  door,  and  de- 
scended by  our  winding  private  stairway  into  the  court. 

The  door  of  St.  Sabas's  tomb  was  wide  open  ! 

Were  the  graves  opening,  and  the  dead  taking  the  air  ?  Did 
this  tomb  open  of  its  own  accord  ?  Out  of  its  illuminated  inte- 
rior would  the  saint  stalk  forth  and  join  this  great  procession,  the 
reveille  of  the  quick  and  the  slow  ? 

From  above  and  from  below,  up  stairs  and  do\vn  stairs,  out 
of  caves  and  grottos  and  aU  odd  roosting-places,  the  monks  and 
pilgrims  were  pouring  and  streaming  into  the  court ;  and  the  bells 
incessantly  called  more  and  more  importunately  as  the  loiterers 
delayed. 

The  church  was  open,  and  lighted  at  the  altar  end.  I  glided 
in  with  the  other  ghostly,  hastily  clad,  and  yawning  pilgrims. 
The  screen  at  the  apse  before  the  holy  place,  a  mass  of  silver  and 
gilding,  sparkled  in  the  candlelight ;  the  cross  above  it  gleamed 
like  a  revelation  out  of  the  gloom ;  but  half  of  the  church  was  in 
heavy  shadow.  From  the  penetralia  came  the  sound  of  priestly 
chanting ;  in  the  wooden  otalls  along  each  side  of  the  church 
stood,  facing  the  altar,  the  black  and  motionless  figures  of  the 
brothers.  The  pilgrims  were  crowding  and  jostling  in  at  the  door. 
A  brother  gave  me  a  stall  near  the  door,  and  I  stood  in  it,  as 
statue-like  as  I  could,  and  became  a  brother  for  the  time  being. 

At  the  left  of  the  door  stood  a  monk  with  impassive  face ;  be- 
fore him  on  a  table  were  piles  of  wax  tapers  and  a  solitary  lighted 
candle.  Every  pilgrim  who  entered  bought  a  taper  and  paid  two 
coppers  for  it.  If  he  had  not  the  change  the  monk  gave  him 
change,  and  the  pilgrim  carefully  counted  what  he  received  and 
objected  to  any  piece  he  thought  not  current.     You  may  wake 


PILGRIMS  AT  WORSHIP.  137 

these  people  up  any  time  of  niglit,  and  find  their  perceptions 
about  money  unobscured.  The  seller  never  looked  at  the  buyer, 
nor  at  anything  except  the  tapers  and  the  money. 

The  pilgrims  were  of  all  ages  and  grades ;  veiy  old  men,  stout, 
middle-aged  men,  and  young  athletic  fellows ;  there  were  Russians 
from  aU  the  provinces ;  Greeks  from  the  isles,  with  long  black 
locks  and  dark  eyes,  in  fancy  embroidered  jackets  and  leggins, 
swarthy  bandits  and  midnight  pirates  in  appearance.  But  it 
'"nds  to  make  anybody  look  like  a  pirate  to  wake  him  up  at 
.  elve  o'clock  at  night,  and  haul  him  into  the  light  with  no  time 
to  comb  his  hair.  I  dare  say  that  I  may  have  appeared  to  these 
honest  people  like  a  Western  land-pirate.  And  yet  I  should 
rather  meet  some  of  those  Greeks  in  a  lighted  church  than  outside 
the  walls  at  midnight. 

Each  pilgrim  knelt  and  bowed  himself,  then  lighted  his  taper 
and  placed  it  on  one  of  the  tripods  before  the  screen.  In  time 
the  church  was  very  fairly  illuminated,  and  nearly  filled  with 
standing  worshippers,  bowing,  crossing  themselves,  and  respond- 
ing to  the  reading  and  chanting  in  low  murmurs.  The  chanting 
was  a  very  nasal  intoning,  usually  slow,  but  now  and  then  break- 
ing into  a  lively  gaUop.  The  assemblage,  quiet  and  respectful, 
but  clad  in  all  the  vagaries  of  Oriental  colors  and  rags,  contained 
some  faces  that  appeared  very  wild  in  the  half-light.  When  the 
service  had  gone  on  half  an  hour,  a  priest  came  out  mth  a  tink- 
ling censer  and  incensed  carefully  every  nook  and  corner  and 
person  (even  the  vestibule,  where  some  of  the  pilgrims  slept,  which 
needed  it),  until  the  church  was  filled  with  smoke  and  perfume. 
The  performance  went  on  for  an  hour  or  more,  but  I  crept  back 
to  bed  long  before  it  was  over,  and  feU  to  sleep  ou  the  drone  of 
the  intoning. 

We  were  up  before  sunrise  on  Sunday  morning.  The  pilgrims 
were  already  leaving  for  Jerusalem.  There  was  no  trace  of  the  last 
night's  revelry ;  everything  was  commonplace  in  the  bright  day- 
light. We  were  served  with  coffee,  and  then  finished  our  explo- 
ration of  the  premises. 

That  which  we  had  postponed  as  the  most  interesting  si;rht  was 
the  cell  of  St.  Sabas.     It  is  a  natural  grotto  in  the  rock,  somewhat 


138  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

enlarged  either  by  the  saint  or  by  his  successors.  When  St.  Sabas 
first  came  to  this  spot,  he  found  a  lion  in  possession.  It  was  not 
the  worst  kind  of  a  lion,  but  a  sort  of  Judsean  lion,  one  of  those 
meek  beasts  over  whom  the  ancient  hermits  had  so  much  control. 
St.  Sabas  looked  at  the  cave  and  at  the  lion,  but  the  cave  suited 
him  better  than  the  lion.  The  lion  looked  at  the  saint,  and  evi- 
dently knew  what  was  passing  in  his  mind.  Por  the  lions  in  those 
days  were  nearly  as  intelligent  as  anybody  else.  And  then  St.  Sabas 
told  the  lion  to  go  away,  that  he  wanted  that  lodging  for  himself. 
And  the  lion,  without  a  growl,  put  his  tail  down,  and  immediately 
went  away.  There  is  a  picture  of  this  interview  stiU  preserved  at 
the  convent,  and  any  one  can  see  that  it  is  probable  that  such  a 
lion  as  the  artist  has  represented  would  move  on  when  requested 
to  do  so. 

In  the  cave  is  a  little  recess,  the  entrance  to  which  is  a  small 
hole,  a  recess  just  large  enough  to  accommodate  a  person  in  a 
sitting  posture.  In  this  place  St.  Sabas  sat  for  seven  years,  with- 
out once  coming  out.  That  was  before  the  present  walls  were 
built  in  front  of  the  grotto,  and  he  had  some  light,  —  he  sat  seven 
years  on  that  hard  stone,  as  long  as  the  present  French  Assembly 
intends  to  sit.  It  was  wdth  him  also  a  provisional  sitting,  in  fact, 
a  Septennate. 

In  the  court-yard,  as  we  were  departing,  were  displayed  articles 
to  sell  to  the  pious  pilgrims :  canes  from  the  Jordan ;  crosses 
painted,  and  inlaid  with  cedar  or  olive  wood,  or  some  sort  of  Jor- 
dan timber ;  rude  paintings  of  the  sign-board  order  done  by  the 
monks,  St.  George  and  the  Dragon  being  the  favorite  subject ; 
hyperbolical  pictures  of  the  convent  and  the  saint,  stamped  in 
black  upon  cotton  cloth ;  and  holy  olive-oil  in  tin  cans. 

Perhaps  the  most  taking  article  of  merchandise  offered  was 
dates  from  the  palm-tree  that  St.  Sabas  planted.  These  dates 
have  no  seeds.  There  was  something  appropriate  about  this ; 
childless  monks,  seedless  dates.  One  could  understand  that.  But 
these  dates  were  bought  by  the  pilgrims  to  caiTy  to  their  wives 
who  desire  but  have  not  sons.  By  what  reasoning  the  monks 
have  convinced  them  that  fruitless  dates  will  be  a  cause  of  fruit- 
fulness,  I  do  not  know. 


A   GLORIOUS   RIDE.  139 

We  paid  our  tribute,  climbed  up  tbe  stairways  and  out  the 
grim  gate  into  the  highway,  and  had  a  glorious  ride  in  the  fresh 
morning  air,  the  way  enlivened  by  wild-flowers,  blue  sky,  Bed- 
aween,  and  troops  of  returning  pilgrims,  and  finally  ennobled  by 
the  sight  of  Jerusalem  itself,  conspicuous  on  its  hUl. 


VII. 

THE  FAIK  OF  MOSES ;   THE  AEMENIAN  PATRIARCH. 

THE  Moslems  believe  that  their  religion  superseded  Judaism 
and  Christianity,  —  Mohammed  closing  the  culminating  series 
of  six  great  prophets,  Adam,  Noah,  Abraham,  Moses,  Jesus, 
Mohammed,  —  and  that  they  have  a  right  to  administer  on  the 
effects  of  both.  They  appropriate  our  sacred  history  and  embel- 
lish it  without  the  least  scruple,  assume  exclusive  right  to  our 
sacred  places,  and  enroll  in  their  own  calendar  all  our  notable 
heroes  and  saints. 

On  the  16th  of  Aprd  was  inaugurated  in  Jerusalem  the  fete 
and  fair  of  the  Prophet  Moses.  The  fair  is  held  yearly  at  Neby 
Miisa,  a  Moslem  wely,  in  the  wilderness  of  Judaea,  some  three  or 
four  hours  from  Jerusalem  on  a  direct  line  to  the  Dead  Sea. 
There  Moses,  according  to  the  Moslem  tradition,  was  buried,  and 
thither  the  faithful  resort  in  great  crowds  at  this  anniversary,  and 
hold  a  four  days'  fair. 

At  midnight  the  air  was  humming  with  preparations ;  the 
whole  city  buzzed  like  a  hive  about  to  swarm.  For  many  days 
pilgrims  had  been  gathering  for  this  festival,  coming  in  on  all  the 
mountain  roads,  from  Gath  and  Askalon,  from  Hebron,  from 
Nablous  a«d  Jaffa,  —  pilgrims  as  zealous  and  as  ragged  as  those 
that  gather  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Jor- 
dan. In  the  early  morning  we  heard  the  pounding  of  drums, 
the  clash  of  cymbals,  the  squeaking  of  fifes,  and  an  occasional 
gun,  let  off  as  it  were  by  accident,  —  very  much  like  the  dawn  of 
a  Fourth  of  July  at  home.  Processions  were  straggling  about 
the  streets,  apparently  lost,  like  ward-delegations  in  search  of  the 


THE   ARMENIAN   PATRIARCH.  141 

beginning  of  St.  Patrick's  Day ;  a  disorderly  scramble  of  rags 
and  color,  a  rabble  hustling  along  without  step  or  order,  preceded 
usually  by  half  a  dozen  enormous  flags,  green,  red,  yellow,  and 
blue,  embroidered  with  various  devices  and  texts  from  the  Koran, 
which  hung  lifeless  on  their  staves,  but  grouped  in  mass  made  as 
lively  a  study  of  color  as  a  bevy  of  sails  of  the  Chioggia  fishing- 
boats  flocking  into  the  port  of  Venice  at  sunrise.  Before  the 
banners  walked  the  musicians,  filling  the  nan'ow  streets  with  a 
fearful  uproar  of  rude  drums  and  cymbals.  These  people  seem 
to  have  inherited  the  musical  talent  of  the  ancient  Jews,  and  to 
have  the  same  passion  for  noise  and  discord. 

As  the  procession  would  not  move  to  the  Tomb  of  Moses  untU 
afternoon,  we  devoted  the  morning  to  a  visit  to  the  Armenian 
Patriarch.  Isaac,  archbishop,  and  by  the  grace  of  God  Patriarch 
of  the  Armenians  of  Jerusalem,  occupant  of  the  holy  apostolic 
seat  of  St.  James  (the  Armenian  convent  stands  upon  the  tradi- 
tional site  of  the  martyrdom  of  St.  James),  claims  to  be  the 
spiritual  head  of  five  millions  of  Armenians,  in  Turkey,  Syria, 
Palestine,  India,  and  Persia.  By  firman  from  the  Sultan,  the 
Copts  and  the  Syrian  and  the  Abyssinian  Christians  are  in  some 
sort  under  his  jurisdiction,  but  the  authority  is  merely  nominal. 

The  reception-room  of  the  convent  is  a  handsome  hall  (for 
Jerusalem),  extending  over  an  archway  of  the  street  below  and 
looking  upon  a  garden.  The  walls  are  hung  with  engravings  and 
lithogi'aphs,  most  of  them  portraits  of  contemporary  sovereigns 
and  princes  of  Europe,  in  whose  august  company  the  Patriarch 
seems  to  like  to  sun  himself.  We  had  not  to  wait  long  before  he 
appeared  and  gave  us  a  courteous  and  simple  welcome.  As  soon 
as  he  learned  that  we  were  Americans,  he  said  that  he  had  some- 
thing that  he  thought  would  interest  us,  and  going  to  his  table 
took  out  of  the  drawer  an  old  number  of  an  American  periodical 
containing  a  portrait  of  an  American  publisher,  which  he  set 
great  store  by.  "We  congratulated  him  upon  his  possession  of 
this  treasure,  and  expressed  our  passionate  fondness  for  this  sort 
of  thing,  for  we  soon  discovered  the  delight  the  Patriarch  took  in 
pictures  and  especially  in  portraits,  and  not  least  in  photographs 
of  himself  in  the  full  regalia  of  his  sacred  office.     And  with  rea- 


142  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

son,  for  he  is  probably  the  handsomest  potentate  in  the  world. 
He  is  a  tall,  finely  proportioned  man  of  fifty  years,  and  his 
deportment  exhibits  that  happy  courtesy  -which  is  born  of  the  love 
of  approbation  and  a  kindly  opinion  of  self.  He  was  clad  in  the 
black  cloak  with  the  pointed  hood  of  the  convent,  which  made  a 
fine  contrast  to  his  long,  full  beard,  turning  white ;  his  com- 
plexion is  fair,  white  and  red,  and  his  eyes  are  remarkably  pleas- 
ant and  benignant. 

The  languages  at  the  command  of  the  Patriarch  are  two,  the 
Armenian  and  the  Turkish,  and  we  were  obliged  to  communicate 
with  him  through  the  medium  of  the  latter,  Abd-el-Atti  acting  as 
interpreter.  How  much  Turkish  our  dragoman  knew,  and  how 
familiar  his  holiness  is  with  it,  we  could  not  tell,  but  the  conver- 
sation went  on  briskly,  as  it  always  does  when  Abd-el-Atti  has 
control  of  it.  Wlien  we  had  exhausted  what  the  Patriarch  knew 
about  America  and  what  we  knew  about  Armenia,  which  did  not 
take  long  (it  was  astonishing  how  few  things  in  all  this  world  of 
things  we  knew  in  common),  we  directed  the  conversation  upon 
what  we  supposed  would  be  congenial  and  common  ground,  the 
dogma  of  the  Trinity  and  the  point  of  difference  between  the  Ar- 
menian and  the  Latin  church.  I  cannot  say  that  we  acquired 
much  light  on  the  subject,  though  probably  w-e  did  better  than 
disputants  usually  do  on  this  topic.  We  had  some  signal  advan- 
tages. The  questions  and  answers,  sti-ained  through  the  Turkish 
language,  were  robbed  of  all  salient  and  noxious  points,  and 
solved  themselves  without  difficulty.  Thus,  the  "FiUoque  clause" 
offered  no  subtle  distinctions  to  the  Moslem  mind  of  Abd-el-Atti, 
and  he  presented  it  to  the  Patriarch,  I  have  no  doubt,  with  per- 
fect clarity.     At  any  rate,  the  reply  was  satisfactoiy :  — 

"  His  excellency,  he  much  oblige,  and  him  say  he  t'ink  so." 
The  elucidation  of  this  point  was  rendered  the  easier,  probably, 
by  the  fact  that  neither  Abd-el-Atti  nor  the  Patriarch  nor  our- 
selves  knew  much  about  it.  When  I  told  his  highness  (if,  through 
Abd-el-Atti,  I  did  tell  him)  that  the  great  Armenian  convent  at 
Venice,  which  holds  with  the  Pope,  accepts  the  Latin  construction 
of  the  clause,  he  seemed  never  to  have  heard  of  the  great  Ai-me- 
nian  convent  at  Venice.     At  this  point  of  the  conversation  we 


THE  ABYSSINIANS.  143 

thought  it  wise  to  finish  the  subject  by  the  trite  remark  that  we 
believed  a  man's  life  was  after  aU  more  important  than  his  creed. 

"  So  am  I,"  responded  the  dragoman,  and  the  Patriarch  seemed 
to  be  of  like  mind. 

A  new  turn  was  given  to  our  interview  by  the  arrival  of  re- 
freshments, a  succession  of  sweetmeats,  cordials,  candies,  and 
coffee.  The  sweetmeats  first  served  were  a  delicate  preserve  of 
plums.  This  was  handed  around  in  a  jar,  from  which  each  guest 
dipped  a  spoonful,  and  swallowed  it,  drinking  from  a  glass  of 
water  immediately, — exactly  as  we  used  to  take  medicine  in  child- 
hood. The  preserve  was  taken  away  when  each  person  had  tasted 
it,  and  shortly  a  delicious  orange  cordial  was  brought,  and  handed 
around  with  candy.  Coffee  followed.  The  Patriarch  then  led 
the  way  about  his  palace,  and  Avith  some  pride  showed  us  the 
gold  and  silver  insignia  of  his  office  and  his  rich  vestments.  On 
the  wall  of  his  study  hung  a  curious  map  of  the  world,  printed  at 
Amsterdam  in  1692,  in  Armenian  characters.  He  was  so  kind 
also  as  to  give  us  his  photograph,  enriched  with  his  unreadable 
autograph,  and  a  book  printed  at  the  convent,  entitled  Deux  Ans 
de  Sejour  en  Abyssinie ;  and  we  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  also 
the  heroes  and  the  author  of  the  book,  —  two  Armenian  monks, 
who  undertook,  on  an  English  suggestion,  a  mission  to  King 
Theodore,  to  intercede  for  the  release  of  the  English  prisoners 
held  by  the  tyrant  of  that  land.  They  were  detained  by  its 
treacherous  and  barbarous  chiefs,  robbed  by  people  and  priests 
alike,  never  reached  the  headquarters  of  the  king,  and  were  re- 
leased only  after  two  years  of  miserable  captivity  and  suffering. 
This  book  is  a  faithfid  record  of  their  journey,  and  contains  a 
complete  description  of  the  religion  and  customs  of  the  Abyssin- 
ians,  set  down  with  the  candor  and  verbal  nakedness  of  Herod- 
otus. Whatever  Christianity  the  Abyssinians  may  once  have 
had,  their  religion  now  is  an  odd  mixture  of  Judaism,  fetichism, 
and  Christian  dogmas,  and  their  morals  a  perfect  reproduction 
of  those  in  vogue  just  before  the  flood;  there  is  no  vice  or  disease 
of  barbarism  or  of  civilization  that  is  not  with  them  of  universal 
acceptance.  And  the  priest  Timotheus,  the  wi'iter  of  this  narra- 
tive, gave  the  Abyssinians  abiding  in  Jerusalem  a  character  no 
better  than  that  of  their  couiitrvnien  at  home. 


144  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

The  Patriarch,  with  many  expressions  of  civility,  gave  us  into 
the  charge  of  a  monk,  who  showed  us  all  the  parts  of  the  convent 
we  had  not  seen  on  a  previous  visit.  The  convent  is  not  only  a 
wealthy  and  clean,  but  also  an  enlightened  establishment.  Within 
its  precincts  are  nuns  as  well  as  monks,  and  good  schools  are  main- 
tained for  children  of  both  sexes.  The  school-house,  with  its 
commodious  apartments,  was  not  unlike  one  of  our  buildings  for 
graded  schools ;  in  the  rooms  we  saw  many  cases  of  antiquities 
and  curiosities  from  various  countries,  and  specimens  of  minerals. 
A  map  which  hung  on  the  wall,  and  was  only  one  hundred  years 
old,  showed  the  Eed  Sea  flowing  into  the  Dead  Sea,  and  the  river 
Jordan  emptying  into  the  Mediterranean.  Perhaps  the  scholars 
learn  ancient  geography  only. 

At  twelve  the  Moslems  said  prayers  in  the  Mosque  of  Omar, 
and  at  one  o'clock  the  procession  was  ready  to  move  out  of  St. 
Stephen's  Gate.  We  rode  around  to  that  entrance.  The  spec- 
tacle spread  before  us  was  man^ellous.  All  the  gray  and  ragged 
slopes  and  ravines  were  gay  with  color  and  lively  with  movement. 
The  city  walls  on  the  side  overlooking  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat 
were  covered  with  masses  of  people,  clinging  to  them  like  bees ; 
so  the  defences  may  have  appeared  to  Titus  when  he  ordered  the 
assault  from  the  opposite  hill.  The  sunken  road  leading  from  St. 
Stephen's  Gate,  down  which  the  procession  was  to  pass,  was  lined 
with  spectators,  seated  in  ranks  on  ranks  on  the  stony  slopes. 
These  were  mostly  women,  — this  being  one  of  the  few  days  upon 
which  the  Moslem  women  may  freely  come  abroad,  —  clad  in  pm-e 
white,  and  with  white  veils  drawn  about  their  heads.  These 
clouds  of  white  robes  were  relieved  here  and  there  by  flaming 
spots  of  color,  for  the  children  and  slaves  accompanied  the  women, 
and  their  dress  added  blue  and  red  and  yellow  to  the  picture. 
Men  also  mingled  in  the  throng,  displacing  turbans  of  blue  and 
black  and  green  and  white.  One  could  not  say  that  any  color  or 
nationality  was  wanting  in  the  spectacle.  Sprinkled  in  groups  all 
over  the  hillside,  in  the  Moslem  cemetery  and  beneath  it,  were 
like  groups  of  color,  and  streaks  of  it  marked  the  descent  of  every 
winding  path.  The  Prince  of  Oldenburg,  the  only  foreign  digni- 
tary present,  had  his  tents  pitched  upon  a  knoll  outside  the  gate, 
and  other  tents  dotted  the  roadside  and  the  hill. 


AN  ORIENTAL   PROCESSION.  145 

Crowds  of  people  thronged  both  sides  of  the  road  to  the  Mount 
of  Olives  and  to  Gethsemane,  spreading  themselves  in  the  valley 
and  extending  away  up  the  road  of  the  Triumphal  Entry ;  every- 
where were  the  most  brilliant  ettects  of  white,  red,  yeUow,  gray, 
green,  black,  and  striped  raiment :  no  matter  what  these  Orientals 
put  on,  it  becomes  picturesque,  —  old  coffee-bags,  old  rags  and 
carpets,  anything.  There  could  not  be  a  finer  place  for  a  display ' 
than  these  two  opposing  hillsides,  the  narrow  valley,  and  the 
winding  roads,  which  increased  the  apparent  length  of  the  proces- 
sion and  set  it  off  to  the  best  advantage.  We  were  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  see  this  ancient  valley  of  bones  revived  in  a  man- 
ner to  recall  the  pageants  and  shows  of  centuries  ago,  and  as  we 
rode  down  the  sunken  road  in  advance  of  the  procession,  we  im- 
agined how  we  might  have  felt  if  we  had  been  mounted  on  horses 
or  elephants  instead  of  donkeys,  and  if  we  had  been  conquerors 
leading  a  triumph,  and  these  people  on  either  hand  had  been 
cheering  us  instead  of  jeering  us.  Turkish  soldiers,  stationed 
every  thirty  paces,  kept  the  road  clear  for  the  expected  cavalcade. 
In  order  to  see  it  and  the  spectators  to  the  best  advantage,  we 
took  position  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley  and  below  the 
road  around  the  Mount  of  Olives. 

The  procession  was  a  good  illustration  of  the  shallow  splendor 
of  the  Orient ;  it  had  no  order,  no  'uniformity,  no  organization ; 
it  dragged  itself  along  at  the  whim  of  its  separate  squads.  First 
came  a  guard  of  soldiers,  then  a  little  huddle  of  men  of  all  sorts 
of  colors  and  apparel,  bearing  several  flags,  among  them  the  green 
Flag  of  Moses ;  after  an  interval  another  squad,  bearing  large  and 
gorgeous  flags,  preceded  by  musicians  beating  drums  and  cym- 
bals. In  front  of  the  drums  danced,  or  rather  hitched  forward 
with  stately  steps,  two  shabby  feUows,  throwing  their  bodies  from 
side  to  side  and  casting  their  arms  about,  clashing  cymbals  and 
smirking  with  infinite  conceit.  At  long  intervals  came  other  like 
bands  with  flags  and  music,  in  such  disorder  as  scarcely  to  be 
told  from  the  spectators,  except  that  they  bore  guns  and  pistols, 
which  they  continually  fired  into  the  air  and  close  over  the  heads 
of  the  crowd,  with  a  reckless  profusion  of  powder  and  the  most 
murderous  appearance.  To  these  followed  mounted  soldiers  in 
7  J 


146  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

white,  with  a  Turkish  band  of  music,  —  worse  than  any  military 
band  in  Italy ;  and  after  this  the  pasha,  tlie  governor  of  the  city, 
a  number  of  civil  and  military  dignitaries  and  one  or  two  high 
ulemas,  and  a  green-clad  representative  of  the  Prophet,  —  a  beg- 
gar on  horseback,  —  on  fiery  horses  which  curveted  about  in  the 
crowd,  excited  by  the  guns,  the  music,  and  the  discharge  of  a 
cannon  now  and  then,  which  was  stationed  at  the  gate  of  St, 
Stephen.  Among  the  insignia  displayed  were  two  tall  instru- 
ments of  brass,  which  twirled  and  glittered  in  the  sun,  not  like 
the  golden  candlestick  of  the  Jews,  nor  the  "  host  "  of  the  Cath- 
olics, nor  the  sistrum  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  but,  perhaps,  as 
Moslemism  is  a  reminiscence  of  all  religions,  a  caricature  of  all 
three. 

The  crush  in  the  narrow  road  round  the  hill  and  the  grouping 
of  all  the  gorgeous  banners  there  produced  a  momentary  fine  effect ; 
but  generally,  save  for  the  spectators,  the  display  was  cheap  and 
childish.  Only  once  did  we  see  either  soldiers  or  civilians  march- 
ing in  order;  there  were  five  fellows  in  line  carrying  Nubian 
spears,  and  also  five  sappers  and  miners  in  line,  wearing  leathern 
aprons  and  bearing  theatrical  battle-axes.  As  to  the  arms,  we 
could  discover  no  two  guns  of  the  same  pattern  in  all  the  multi- 
tude of  guns;  like  most  things  in  the  East,  the  demonstration 
was  one  of  show,  color,  and  noise,  not  to  be  examined  too  closely, 
but  to  be  taken  with  faith,  as  we  eat  dates.  A  company  of 
Sheridan's  cavalry  would  have  scattered  the  entire  army. 

The  procession,  having  halted  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  counter- 
marched and  returned ;  but  the  Flag  of  Moses  and  its  guard  went 
on  to  the  camp,  at  his  tomb,  there  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  pil- 
grims on  the  Monday  following.  And  the  most  gorgeous  Mos- 
lem demonstration  of  the  year  was  over. 


VIII. 

DEPARTURE  FROM  JERUSALEM. 

THE  day  came  to  leave  Jerusalem.  Circumstances  rendered  it 
impossible  for  us  to  make  the  overland  trip  to  Damascus  or 
even  to  Haifa.  Our  regret  that  we  should  not  see  Bethel,  Shechem, 
Samaria,  Nazareth,  and  the  Sea  of  Galilee  was  somewhat  lessened 
by  the  thought  that  we  knew  the  general  character  of  the  coun- 
try and  the  villages,  by  what  we  had  already  seen,  and  that  expe- 
rience had  taught  us  the  inevitable  disenchantment  of  seeing  the 
historical  and  the  sacred  places  of  Judaea.  It  is  not  that  one 
visits  a  desert  and  a  heap  of  ruins,  —  that  would  be  endurable 
and  even  stimulating  to  the  imagination ;  but  every  locality  which 
is  dear  to  the  reader  by  some  divine  visitation,  or  wonderful  by 
some  achievement  of  hero  or  prophet,  is  degraded  by  the  presence 
of  sordid  habitations,  and  a  mixed,  vicious,  and  unsavory  popula- 
tion, or  incrusted  with  the  most  puerile  superstitions,  so  that  the 
traveller  is  fain  to  content  himself  with  a  general  view  of  the 
unchanged  features  of  the  country.  It  must  be  with  a  certain 
feeling  of  humiliation  that  at  Nazareth,  for  instance,  the  object  of 
his  pilgrimage  is  belittled  to  the  inspection  of  such  inventions  as 
the  spot  upon  which  the  Virgin  stood  when  she  received  the  an- 
nunciation, and  the  carpenter- shop  in  which  Joseph  worked. 

At  any  rate,  we  let  such  thoughts  predominate,  when  we  were 
obliged  to  relinquish  the  overland  journey.  And  whatever  we 
missed,  I  flatter  myself  that  the  readers  of  these  desultory  sketches 
will  lose  nothing.  I  should  have  indulged  a  certain  curiosity  in 
riding  over  a  country  as  rich  in  memories  as  it  is  poor  in  aspect, 
but  I  should  have  been  able  to  add  nothing  to  the  minute  descrip- 


148  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

tions  and  vivid  pictures  with  which  the  Christian  world  is  famil- 
iar ;  and,  if  the  reader  will  excuse  an  additional  personal  remark, 
I  have  not  had  the  presumption  to  attempt  a  description  of  Pal- 
estine and  Syria  (which  the  volumes  of  Robinson  and  Thompson 
and  Porter  have  abundantly  given),  but  only  to  make  a  record  of 
limited  travel  and  observation.  What  I  most  regretted  was  that 
we  could  not  see  the  green  and  fertile  plain  of  Esdraelon,  the 
flower-spangled  meadow  of  Jezreel,  and  the  forests  of  Tabor  and 
Carmel,  —  seats  of  beauty  and  of  verdure,  and  which,  with  the  Plain 
of  Sharon,  might  serve  to  mitigate  the  picture  of  grim  desolation 
which  the  tourist  carries  away  from  the  Holy  Land. 

Finally,  it  was  with  a  feeling  akin  to  regret  that  we  looked  our 
last  upon  gray  and  melancholy  Jerusalem.  We  had  grown  a 
little  familiar  with  its  few  objects  of  past  or  present  grandeur, 
the  Saracenic  walls  and  towers,  the  Temple  platform  and  its  re- 
splendent mosque,  the  agglomeration  called  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  the  ruins  of  the  palace  and  hospice  of  the  Knights 
of  St.  John,  the  massive  convents  and  hospices  of  various  nations 
and  sects  that  rise  amid  the  indistinguishable  huddle  of  wretched 
habitations,  threaded  by  filthy  streets  and  noisome  gutters.  And 
yet  we  confessed  to  the  inevitable  fascination  which  is  always  ex- 
ercised upon  the  mind  by  antiquity ;  the  mysterious  attraction  of 
association;  the  undefinable  influence  in  decay  and  desolation 
which  holds  while  it  repels  ;  the  empire,  one  might  say  the  tyranny, 
over  the  imagination  and  the  ^nll  which  an  ancient  city  asserts,  as 
if  by  force  of  an  immortal  personality,  compelling  first  curiosity, 
then  endurance,  then  sympathy,  and  finally  love.  Jerusalem  has 
neither  the  art,  the  climate,  the  antiquities,  nor  the  society  Avhich 
draw  the  world  and  hold  it  captive  in  Rome,  but  its  associations 
enable  it  to  exercise,  in  a  degree,  the  same  attraction.  Its  attrac- 
tion is  in  its  historic  spell  and  name,  and  in  spite  of  the  modern 
city. 

Jerusalem,  in  fact,  is  incrusted  with  layer  upon  layer  of  inven- 
tions, the  product  of  credidity,  cunning,  and  superstition,  a  mon- 
strous growth  always  enlarging,  so  that  already  the  simple  facts 
of  history  are  buried  almost  beyond  recognition  beneath  this  mass 
of  rubbish.     Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  for  the  growth  of 


CHRISTIANITY    IN   JERUSALEM.  149 

Christianity  in  the  world  if  Jerusalem  had  been  abandoned,  had 
become  like  Carthage  and  Memphis  and  Tadmor  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  the  modern  pilgrim  were  free  to  choose  his  seat  upon 
a  fallen  wall  or  mossy  rock,  and  reconstruct  for  himself  the 
pageant  of  the  past,  and  recall  that  Living  Presence,  undisturbed 
by  the  impertinences  which  belittle  the  name  of  religion.  It  has 
always  been  held  well  that  the  place  of  the  burial  of  Moses  was 
unknown.  It  would  perhaps  have  conduced  to  the  purity  of  the 
Christian  faith  if  no  attempt  had  ever  been  made  to  break  through 
the  obscurity  which  rests  upon  the  place  of  the  sepidchre  of  Christ. 
Invention  has  grown  upon  invention,  and  we  have  the  Jerusalem  of 
to-day  as  a  residt  of  the  exaggerated  importance  attached  to  the 
localization  of  the  Divine  manifestation.  Whatever  interest  Jei-u- 
salem  has  for  the  antiquarian,  or  for  the  devout  mind,  it  is  unde- 
niable that  one  must  seek  in  other  lands  and  among  other  peoples 
for  the  robust  virtue,  the  hatred  of  shams  and  useless  forms,  the 
sweet  charity,  the  invigorating  principles,  the  high  thinking,  and 
the  simple  worship  inculcated  by  the  Founder  of  Christianity. 

The  horses  were  ready.  Jerusalem  had  just  begun  to  stir  ;  an 
itinerant  vender  of  coffee  had  set  up  his  tray  on  the  street,  and 
was  lustily  calling  to  catch  the  attention  of  the  early  workmen, 
or  the  vagrants  who  pick  themselves  up  from  the  doorsteps  at 
dawn,  and  begin  to  reconnoitre  for  the  necessary  and  cheap  taste 
of  coffee,  with  which  the  Oriental  day  opens  ;  the  sky  was  over- 
cast, and  a  drop  or  two  of  rain  fell  as  we  were  getting  into  the 
saddle,  but  "  It  is  nothing,"  said  the  stirrup-holder,  "  it  goes  to 
be  a  beautifid  time  "  ;  and  so  it  proved. 

Scarcely  were  we  outside  the  city  when  it  cleared  superbly,  and 
we  set  forward  on  our  long  ride  of  thirty-six  miles,  to  the  sea- 
coast,  in  high  spirits.  We  tm-ned  to  catch  the  first  sunlight 
upon  the  gray  Tower  of  David,  and  then  went  gayly  on  over  the 
cool  free  hills,  inhaling  the  sparkling  air  and  the  perfume  of  wild- 
flowers,  and  exchanging  greetings  wMth  the  pilgrims,  Moslem  and 
Christian,  who  must  have  broken  up  their  camps  in  the  hills  at  the 
earliest  light.  There  are  all  varieties  of  nationality  and  costume, 
and  many  of  the  peaceful  pilgrims  are  armed  as  if  going  to  a 
military  rendezvous  ;  perhaps  our  cavalcade,  which  is  also  an  as- 


150  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

sorted  one  of  horses,  donkeys,  and  mules,  is  as  amusing  as  any 
we  meet.  I  am  certain  that  the  horse  that  one  of  the  ladies  rides 
is  unique,  a  mere  framework  of  bones  which  rattle  as  he  agitates 
himself ;  a  rear  view  of  the  animal,  and  his  twisting  and  inter- 
lacing legs,  when  he  moves  briskly,  suggest  a  Chinese  puzzle. 

We  halted  at  the  outlet  of  Wady  'Aly,  where  there  is  an  inn, 
which  has  the  appearance  of  a  Den  of  Thieves,  and  took  our 
lunch  upon  some  giant  rocks  under  a  fig-tree,  the  fruit  of  which 
was  already  half  grown.  Here  I  discovered  another  black  calla, 
and  borrowed  a  pick  of  the  landlord  to  endeavor  to  dig  up  its 
bulb.  But  it  was  impossible  to  extract  it  from  the  rocks,  and 
when  I  returned  the  tool,  the  owner  demanded  pay  for  the  use  of 
it ;  I  told  him  that  if  he  wouhl  come  to  America,  I  would  lend 
him  a  pick,  and  let  him  dig  all  day  in  the  garden,  —  a  liberality 
which  he  was  unable  to  comprehend. 

By  four  o'clock  we  were  atRamleh,  and  turned  aside  to  inspect 
the  so-called  Saracen  tower ;  it  stands  upon  one  side  of  a  large 
enclosure  of  walls  and  arches,  an  extensive  ruin  ;  under  ground 
arc  vaulted  constructions  apparently  extending  as  far  as  the  ruins 
above,  reminding  one  of  the  remains  of  the  Hospice  of  St.  John 
at  Jerusalem.  In  its  form  and  treatment  and  feeling  this  noble 
tower  is  Gothic,  and,  taking  it  in  connection  with  the  remains 
about  it,  I  should  have  said  it  was  of  Christian  construction,  in 
spite  of  the  Arabic  inscription  over  one  of  the  doorways,  which 
might  have  been  added  when  the  Saracens  took  possession  of  it ; 
but  I  believe  that  antiquarians  have  decided  that  the  tower  was 
erected  by  Moslems.  These  are  the  most  "  rui-al  "  ruins  we  had 
seen  in  the  East ;  they  are  time-stained  and  weather-colored,  like 
the  remains  of  an  English  abbey,  and  stand  in  the  midst  of  a 
green  and  most  lovely  country ;  no  sand,  no  nakedness,  no  beg- 
gars. Grass  fills  all  the  enclosure,  and  grain-fields  press  close 
about  it.  No  view  could  be  more  enchanting  than  that  of  the 
tower  and  the  rolling  plain  at  that  hour  :  the  bloom  on  the  wheat- 
fields,  flecked  with  flaming  poppies ;  the  silver  of  tlie  olive 
groves;  the  beds  of  scarlet  anemones  and  yellow  buttercups, 
blotching  the  meadows  with  brilliant  colors  like  a  picture  of 
Turner;  the  soft  gray  hills  of  Judaea;  the  steeples  and  minarets 


THE   ORANGE-GROVES   OF  JAFFA.  151 

of  the  city.     AH  Eamleli  is  built  on  and  amid  ruins,  half-covered 
arches  and  vaults. 

TAvilight  came  upon  us  while  we  were  yet  in  the  interminable 
plain,  but  Jaffa  announced  itself  by  its  orange-blossoms  long 
before  we  entered  its  straggling  suburbs ;  indeed,  when  we  were 
three  miles  away,  the  odor  of  its  gardens,  weighted  by  the  night- 
air,  was  too  heavy  to  be  agreeable.  At  a  distance  this  odor  was 
more  perceptible  than  in  the  town  itself;  but  next  day,  in  the 
fidl  heat  of  the  sun,  we  found  it  so  overpowering  as  to  give  a 
tendency  to  headache. 


IX. 

ALONG  THE   SYRIAN  COAST. 

OUR  only  business  in  Jaffa  being  to  get  away  from  it,  we  im- 
patiently expected  tlie  arrival  of  the  Austrian  Lloyd  steamer 
for  Beyrout,  the  Venus,  a  fickle  and  imsteady  craft,  as  its  name 
implies.  In  the  afternoon  we  got  on  board,  taking  note  as  we 
left  the  land  of  the  great  stones  that  jut  out  into  the  sea,  "  where 
the  chains  with  which  Andromeda  was  bound  have  left  their 
footsteps,  which  attest  [says  Josephus]  the  antiquity  of  that 
fable."  The  Venus,  which  should  have  departed  at  three  o'clock, 
lay  rolling  about  amid  the  tossing  and  bobbing  and  crushing 
crowd  of  boats  and  barges  till  late  in  the  evening,  taking  in  boxes 
of  oranges  and  bags  of  barley,  by  the  slow  process  of  hoisting  up 
one  or  two  at  a  time.  The  ship  was  lightly  loaded  with  freight, 
but  overrun  with  third-class  passengers,  returning  pilgrims  from 
Mecca  and  from  Jerusalem  (whom  the  waters  of  the  Jordan 
seemed  not  to  have  benefited),  who  invaded  every  part  of  deck, 
cabin,  and  hold,  and  spreading  their  beds  under  the  windows  of 
the  cabins  of  the  first-class  passengers,  reduced  the  whole  com- 
pany to  a  common  disgust.  The  light  load  caused  the  vessel  to 
roll  a  little,  and  there  was  nothing  agreeable  in  the  situation. 

The  next  morning  we  were  in  the  harbor  of  Haifa,  under  the 
shadow  of  Mt.  Carmel,  and  rose  early  to  read  about  Elijah,  and 
to  bring  as  near  to  us  as  we  could  with  an  opera-glass  the  convent 
and  the  scene  of  Elijah's  victory  over  the  priests  of  Baal.  The 
noble  convent  we  saw,  and  the  brow  of  Carmel,  which  the  prophet 
ascended  to  pray  for  rain ;  but  the  place  of  the  miraculous  sacri- 
fice is  on  the  other  side,  in  view  of  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  and 


TYRE.  153 

so  is  the  plain  by  the  river  Kishon  where  Elijah  slew  the  four 
hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of  Baal,  whom  he  had  already  mocked 
and  defeated.  The  grotto  of  Elijah  is  shown  in  the  hill,  and  the 
monks  who  inhabit  the  convent  regard  themselves  as  the  succes- 
sors of  an  unbroken  succession  of  holy  occupants  since  the  days 
of  the  great  prophet.  Their  sumptuous  quarters  would  no  doubt 
excite  the  indignation  of  Elijah  and  Elisha,  who  would  not  prop- 
erly discriminate  between  the  modem  reign  of  Mammon  and  the 
ancient  rule  of  Baal.  Haifa  itself  is  only  a  huddle  of  houses  on 
the  beach.  Ten  miles  across  the  curving  bay  we  saw  the  battle- 
ments of  Akka,  on  its  triangle  of  land  jutting  into  the  sea,  above 
the  mouth  of  Kishon,  out  of  the  fertile  and  world-renowned  plain. 
We  see  it  more  distinctly  as  we  pass ;  and  if  we  were  to  land  we 
should  see  little  more,  for  few  fragments  remain  to  attest  its  many 
masters  and  strange  vicissitudes.  A  prosperous  seat  of  the  Phoe- 
nicians, it  offered  hospitality  to  the  fat-loving  tribe  of  Asher ;  it 
was  a  Greek  city  of  wealth  and  consequence ;  it  was  considered 
the  key  of  Palestine  during  the  Crusades,  and  the  headquarters 
of  the  Templars  and  the  Knights  of  St.  John ;  and  in  more  modern 
times  it  had  the  credit  of  giving  the  checkmate  to  the  feeble  imi- 
tation of  Alexander  in  the  East  attempted  by  Napoleon  I. 

The  day  was  cloudy  and  a  little  cool,  and  not  unpleasant ;  but 
there  existed  all  day  a  ground-swell  which  is  full  of  all  nastiness, 
and  a  short  sea  which  aggravated  the  ground-swell ;  and  although 
we  sailed  by  the  Lebanon  mountains  and  along  an  historic  coast, 
bristling  with  suggestions,  and  with  little  but  suggestions,  of  an 
heroic  past,  by  Akka  and  Tyre  and  Sidon,  we  were  mostly  indif- 
ferent to  it  all.  The  Mediterranean,  on  occasion,  takes  away  one's 
appetite  even  for  ruins  and  ancient  history. 

We  can  distinguish,  as  we  sail  by  it,  the  mean  modern  town 
which  wears  still  the  royal  purple  name  of  Tyre,  and  the  penin- 
sula, formerly  the  island,  upon  which  the  old  town  stood  and 
which  gave  it  its  name.  The  Arabs  still  call  it  Tsur  or  Sur,  "the 
rock,"  and  the  ancients  fancied  that  this  island  of  rock  had  the 
form  of  a  ship  and  was  typical  of  the  maritime  pursuits  of  its 
people.  Some  have  thought  it  more  like  the  cradle  of  commerce 
which  Tyre  is  sometimes,  though  erroneously,  said  to  be;  for  she 
7* 


154  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

was  only  the  daughter  of  Sidon,  and  did  but  inherit  from  her 
mother  the  secret  of  the  mastery  of  the  seas.  There  were  two 
cities  of  Tyre,  —  the  one  on  the  island,  and  another  on  the  shore. 
Tyre  is  not  an  old  city  in  the  Eastern  reckoning,  the  date  of  its 
foundation  as  a  great  power  only  rising  to  about  1200  B.  c, 
about  the  time  of  the  Trojan  war,  and  after  the  fall  of  Sidon, 
although  there  was  a  city  there  a  couple  of  centuries  earlier,  when 
Joshua  and  his  followers  conquered  the  hill-countries  of  Palestine; 
it  could  never  in  its  days  of  greatness  have  been  large,  probably 
containing  not  more  than  30,000  to  40,000  inhabitants,  but  its 
reputation  was  disproportionate  to  its  magnitude ;  Joshua  calls 
it  the  "strong  city  Tyre,"  and  it  had  the  entire  respect  of  Jerusa- 
lem in  the  most  haughty  days  of  the  latter.  Tyre  seems  to  have 
been  included  in  the  "  inheritance  "  allotted  to  Asher,  but  that 
luxurious  son  of  Jacob  yielded  to  the  Phoenicians  and  not  they  to 
him ;  indeed,  the  parcelling  of  territory  to  the  Israelitish  tribes, 
on  condition  that  they  would  conquer  it,  recalls  the  liberal  dying 
bequest  made  by  a  tender  Virginian  to  his  son,  of  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  if  he  could  make  it.  The  sea-coast  portion  of 
the  Canaanites,  or  the  Phoenicians,  was  never  subdued  by  the  Jews  ; 
it  preserved  a  fortunate  independence,  in  order  that,  under  the 
Providence  that  protected  the  Phoenicians,  after  having  given  the 
world  "  letters  "  and  the  first  impulse  of  all  the  permanent  civili- 
zation that  written  language  implies,  they  could  stiU  bless  it  by 
teaching  it  commerce,  and  that  Avide  exchange  of  products  which 
is  a  practical  brotherhood  of  man.  The  world  was  spared  the  ca- 
lamity of  the  descent  of  the  tribes  of  Israel  upon  the  Phoenician 
cities  of  the  coast,  and  art  was  permitted  to  grow  with  industry ; 
unfortunately  the  tribes  who  formed  the  kingdom  of  Israel  were 
capable  of  imitating  only  the  idolatrous  worship  and  the  sensual- 
ity of  their  more  polished  neighbors.  Such  an  ascendency  did 
Tyre  obtain  in  Jewish  affairs  through  the  princess  Jezebel  and 
the  reception  of  the  priests  of  Baal,  that  for  many  years  both  Sa- 
maria and  Jenisalem  might  almost  be  called  dependencies  of  the 
city  of  the  god,  "  the  lord  Melkarth,  Baal  of  Tyre." 

The  arts  of  the  Phoenicians  the  Jews  were  not  apt  to  learn;  the 
beautiful  bronze-work  of  their  temples  was  executed  by  Tyrians, 


SIDON.  155 

and  their  curious  work  in  wood  also ;  the  secret  of  the  famous 
purple  dye  of  the  royal  stuffs  which  the  Jews  coveted  was  known 
only  to  the  Tyrians,  who  extracted  from  a  sea-mussel  this  dark  red 
violet ;  when  the  Jews  built,  Tyrian  workmen  were  necessary ; 
when  Solomon  undertook  his  commercial  ventures  into  the  far 
Orient,  it  was  Tyrians  who  built  his  ships  at  Ezion-geber,  and  it 
was  Tyrian  sailors  who  manned  them ;  the  Phoenicians  carried  the 
manufacture  of  glass  to  a  perfection  unknown  to  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tians, producing  that  beautiful  ware  the  art  of  which  was  revived 
by  the  Venetians  in  the  sixteenth  century ;  the  Jews  did  not  learn 
from  the  Phoenicians,  but  the  Greeks  did,  how  to  make  that  grace- 
ful pottery  and  to  paint  the  vases  which  are  the  despair  of  modern 
imitators ;  the  Tyrian  mariners,  following  the  Sidonian,  supplied 
the  Mediterranean  countries,  including  Egypt,  with  tin  for  the 
manufacture  of  bronze,  by  adventurous  voyages  as  far  as  Britain, 
and  no  people  ever  excelled  them  in  the  working  of  bronze,  as 
none  in  their  time  equalled  them  in  the  carving  of  ivory,  the  en- 
graving of  precious  metals,  and  the  cutting  and  setting  of  jewels. 

Unfortunately  scarcely  anything  remains  of  the  abundant  liter- 
ature of  the  Phoenicians,  —  for  the  Canaanites  Avere  a  literary  peo- 
ple before  the  invasion  of  Joshua ;  their  language  was  Semitic, 
and  almost  identical  Avith  the  Hebrew,  although  they  were  de- 
scendants of  Ham ;  not  only  their  light  literature  but  their  his- 
torical records  have  disappeared,  and  we  have  small  knowledge  of 
their  kings  or  their  great  men.  The  one  we  are  most  familiar 
with  is  the  shrewd  and  liberal  Hiram  (I  cannot  tell  why  he  always 
reminds  me  of  General  Grant),  who  exchanged  riddles  ■\vith  Solo- 
mon, and  shared  with  the  mountain  king  the  pi-ofits  of  his  mar- 
itime skill  and  experience.  Hiram's  tomb  is  still  pointed  out 
to  the  curious,  at  Tyre ;  and  the  mutations  of  religions  and  the 
freaks  of  fortune  are  illustrated  by  the  chance  that  has  grouped 
so  closely  together  the  graves  of  Hiram,  of  Frederick  Barbarossa, 
and  of  Origen. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  came  in  sight  of  Sidon,  that  ancient 
city  which  the  hand-book  infers  was  famous  at  the  time  of  the 
appearance  of  Joshua,  since  that  skilful  captain  speaks  of  it  as 
"  Great  Zidon."     Famous  it  doubtless  had  been  loner  before  his 


156  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

arrival,  but  the  epithet  "  great "  merely  distinguished  the  two 
cities;  for  Sidon  was  divided  like  Tyre,  "Great  Sidon"  being 
on  the  shore  and  "Little  Sidon"  at  some  distance  inland.  Tra- 
dition says  it  was  built  by  Sidon,  the  great-grandson  of  Noah; 
but  however  this  may  be,  it  is  doubtless  the  oldest  Phoenician  city 
except  Gebel,  which  is  on  the  coast  north  of  Beyrout.  It  is  now 
for  the  antiquarian  little  more  than  a  necropolis,  and  a  heap  of 
stones,  on  which  fishermen  dry  their  nets,  although  some  nine  to 
ten  thousand  people  occupy  its  squalid  houses.  "Wliat  we  see  of 
it  is  the  ridge  of  rocks  forming  the  shallow  harbor,  and  the  pic- 
turesque arched  bridge  (with  which  engravings  have  made  us 
familiar)  that  connects  a  ruined  fortress  on  a  detached  rock  with 
the  rocky  peninsula. 

Sidon  caiTies  us  far  back  into  antiquity.  When  the  Canaan- 
itish  tribes  migrated  from  their  seat  on  the  Persian  Gulf,  a  part 
of  them  continued  their  march  as  far  as  Egypt.  It  seems  to  be 
settled  that  the  Hittites  (or  Khitas)  were  the  invaders  who  over- 
ran the  land  of  the  Pharaohs,  sweeping  away  in  their  barbarous 
violence  nearly  all  the  moimments  of  the  civilization  of  preceding 
eras,  and  placing  upon  the  throne  of  that  old  empire  the  race  of 
Shepherd  kings.  It  was  doubtless  during  the  dynasty  of  the 
Shepherds  that  Abraham  visited  Egypt,  and  it  was  a  Pharaoh  of 
Hittite  origin  who  made  Joseph  his  minister.  It  was  after  the 
expulsion  of  the  Shepherds  and  the  establishment  of  a  dynasty 
"which  knew  not  Joseph"  that  the  Israelites  were  oppressed. 

But  the  Canaanites  did  not  all  pass  beyond  Syria  and  Pales- 
tine ;  some  among  them,  who  afterwards  were  distinctively  known 
as  Phoenicians,  established  a  maritime  kingdom,  and  founded 
among  other  cities  that  of  Sidon.  This  maritime  branch  no 
doubt  kept  up  an  intercourse  with  the  other  portions  of  the  Ca- 
naanite  family  in  Southern  Syria  and  in  Egypt,  before  the  one  was 
driven  out  of  Egypt  by  the  revolution  which  restored  the  rule  of 
the  Egyptian  Pharaohs,  and  the  other  expelled  by  the  advent  of 
the  Philistines.  And  it  seems  altogether  probable  that  the  Phoe- 
nicians received  from  Egypt  many  arts  which  they  afterwards  im- 
proved and  perfected.  It  is  tolerably  certain  that  they  borrowed 
from  Egypt  the  hieratic  writing,  or  some  of  its  characters,  which 


THE   SHADOW   OF  ANTIQUITY.  157 

taiight  them  to  represent  the  sounds  of  their  language  by  the 
alphabet  which  they  gave  to  the  world.  The  Sidonians  were  sub- 
jugated by  Thotmes  III.,  with  all  Phoenicia,  and  were  for  centu- 
ries the  useful  allies  of  the  Egyptians ;  but  their  dominion  was 
over  the  sea,  and  they  spread  their  colonies  first  to  the  Grecian 
isles  and  then  along  the  African  coast ;  and  in  the  other  direction 
sent  their  venturesome  barks  as  far  as  Colchis  on  the  Black  Sea. 
They  seem  to  have  thrived  most  under  the  Egyptian  supremacy, 
for  the  Pharaohs  had  need  of  their  sailors  and  their  ships.  In 
the  later  days  of  the  empire,  in  the  reign  of  Necho,  it  was  Phoeni- 
cian sailors  who,  at  his  command,  circumnavigated  Africa,  pass- 
ing down  the  Red  Sea  and  returning  through  the  Pillars  of 
Hercules. 

The  few  remains  of  Sidon  which  we  see  to-day  are  only  a  few 
centuries  old,  —  six  or  seven  ;  there  are  no  monuments  to  carry  us 
back  to  the  city  famous  in  arts  and  arms,  of  which  Homer  sang ; 
and  if  there  were,  the  antiquity  of  this  hoary  coast  would  still 
elude  us.  Herodotus  says  that  the  temple  of  Melkarth  at  Tyre 
(the  "  daughter  of  Sidon  ")  was  built  about  2300  B.  c.  Probably 
he  errs  by  a  couple  of  centuries ;  for  it  was  only  something  like 
twenty-three  centuries  before  Christ  that  the  Canaanites  came  into 
Palestine,  that  is  to  say,  late  in  the  thirteenth  Egyptian  dynasty,  — 
a  dynasty  which,  according  to  the  list  of  Manetho  and  Mariette 
Bey,  is  separated  from  the  reign  of  the  first  Egyptian  king  by  an 
interval  of  twenty-seven  centuries.  When  Abraham  wandei-ed 
from  Mesopotamia  into  Palestine  he  found  the  Canaanites  in  pos- 
session. But  they  were  comparatively  new  comers ;  they  had 
found  the  land  already  occupied  by  a  numerous  population  who 
were  so  far  advanced  in  civilization  as  to  have  built  many  cities. 
Among  the  peoples  holding  the  land  before  them  were  the  Re- 
phaim,  who  had  sixty  strong  towns  in  what  is  now  the  wilderness 
of  Bashan ;  there  were  also  the  Emim,  the  Zamzummira,  and  the 
Anakim,  —  perhaps  primitive  races  and  perhaps  conquerors  of  a 
people  farther  back  in  the  twilight,  remnants  of  whom  still  re- 
mained in  Palestine  when  the  Jews  began,  in  their  turn,  to  level 
its  cities  to  the  earth,  and  who  lived  in  the  Jewish  traditions  as 
"  giants." 


X. 


BEYROUT.  — OVER  THE  LEBANON. 

ALL  the  afternoon  we  had  the  noble  range  of  Mt.  Lebanon  in 
view,  and  towards  five  o'clock  we  saw  the  desert-like  prom- 
ontory upon  which  Beyrout  stands.  This  bold  headland,  how- 
ever, changed  its  appearance  when  we  had  rounded  it  and  came 
into  the  harbor ;  instead  of  sloping  sand  we  had  a  rocky  coast, 
and  rising  from  the  bay  a  couple  of  hundred  feet,  Beyrout,  first 
the  shabby  old  city,  and  then  the  new  portion  higher  up,  with 
its  villas  embowered  in  trees.  To  the  right,  upon  the  cliffs  over- 
looking the  sea,  is  the  American  college,  an  institution  whose 
conspicuous  position  is  only  a  fair  indication  of  its  pre-eminent 
importance  in  the  East ;  and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  it  does  not 
make  a  better  architectural  show.  Behind  Beyrout,  in  a  vast 
circular  sweep,  rise  the  Lebanon  mountains,  clothed  with  trees 
and  vineyards,  terraced,  and  studded  with  villas  and  villages.  The 
view  is  scarcely  sui*passed  anywhere  for  luxuriance  and  variety. 
It  seems  to  us  that  if  we  had  an  impulse  to  go  on  a  mission  any- 
where it  would  be  to  the  Avicked  of  this  fertile  land. 

At  Beyrout  also  passengers  must  land  in  small  boats.  We 
were  at  once  boarded  by  the  most  ruffianly  gang  of  boatmen  we 
had  yet  seen,  who  poured  through  the  gangways  and  climbed 
over  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  like  priAaleged  pirates,  treading  down 
people  in  their  way.  It  was  only  after  a  severe  struggle  that  we 
reached  our  boats  and  landed  at  the  custom-house,  and  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  legalized  plunderers,  who  made  an  attack  upon 
our  baggage  and  demanded  our  passports,  simply  to  obtain  back- 
sheesh for  themselves. 


THE   ONLY   ROAD   IN   SYRIA.  159 

"Not  to  show  'em  passport,"  says  Abd-el-Atti,  tvIio  Avastes  no 
aftection  on  the  Turks  ;  "  tiefs,  all  of  dera ;  you  be  six  months, 
not  so  ?  in  him  dominion,  come  now  from  Jaffa ;  I  teU  him  if 
the  Mn'  of  Constantinople  want  us,  he  find  us  at  the  hotel." 

The  hotel  BeUevue,  which  looks  upon  the  sea  and  hears  always 
the  waves  dashing  upon  the  worn  and  jagged  rocks,  was  over- 
flowed by  one  of  those  swarms,  which  are  the  nuisance  of  inde- 
pendent travellers,  known  as  a  "  Cook's  Party,"  excellent  people 
individually  no  doubt,  but  monopolizing  hotels  and  steamboats, 
and  driving  even'body  else  into  obscurity  by  reason  of  their  num- 
bers and  compact  organization.  We  passed  yesterday  one  of  the 
places  on  the  coast  where  Jonah  is  said  to  have  left  the  whale ; 
it  is  suspected  —  though  without  any  contemporary  authority  — 
that  he  was  in  a  Cook's  Party  of  his  day,  and  left  it  in  disgust 
for  this  private  conveyance. 

Om*  first  care  in  Beyrout  was  to  secure  our  passage  to  Damas- 
cus. There  is  a  carriage-road  over  the  Lebanons,  constructed, 
owned,  and  managed  by  a  French  company ;  it  is  the  only  road 
in  Syria  practicable  for  wheels,  but  it  is  one  of  the  best  in  the 
world ;  I  suppose  we  shall  celebrate  our  second  centennial  before 
we  have  one  to  compare  with  it  in  the  United  States.  The  com- 
pany has  the  monopoly  of  aU  the  traffic  over  it,  forwarding  freight 
in  its  endless  trains  of  wagons,  and  despatching  a  diligence  each 
way  daily,  and  a  night  mail.  We  went  to  the  office  to  secure 
seats  in  the  diligence. 

"  They  are  aU  taken,"  said  the  official. 

"  Then  we  would  like  seats  for  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  They  are  taken,  and  for  the  day  after  that  —  for  a  week." 

"  Then  we  must  go  in  a  private  carriage." 

"  At  present  we  have  none.  The  two  belonging  to  the  com- 
pany are  at  Damascus." 

"  Then  we  wQl  hire  one  in  the  city." 

"That  is  not  permitted;  no  private  carriage  is  allowed  to  go 
over  the  road  farther  than  five  kilometres  outside  of  Beyrout." 

'■'  So  you  wiU  neither  take  us  yourselves  nor  let  any  one  else  ?  " 

"  Pardon  ;  when  the  carriage  comes  from  Damascus,  you  shall 
have  the  first  chance." 


160  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Fortunately  one  of  the  carriages  arrived  that  night,  and  the 
next  morning  at  nine  o'clock  we  were  en  route.  The  diligence 
left  at  4  A.  M.,  and  makes  the  trip  in  thirteen  hours ;  we  were  to 
break  the  journey  at  Stoura  and  diverge  to  Ba'albek.  The  car- 
riage was  a  short  omnibus,  with  seats  inside  for  four,  a  broad 
seat  in  front,  and  a  deck  for  the  baggage,  painted  a  royal  yellow  ; 
three  horses  were  harnessed  to  it  abreast,  —  one  in  the  shafts  and 
one  on  each  side.  As  the  horses  were  to  be  changed  at  short 
stages,  we  went  foi*ward  at  a  swinging  pace,  rattling  out  of  the 
city  and  commanding  as  much  respect  as  if  we  had  been  the 
diligence  itself  with  its  six  horses,  three  abreast,  and  all  its 
haughty  passengers. 

We  leave  the  promontory  of  Beyrout,  dip  into  a  long  depres- 
sion, and  then  begin  to  ascend  the  Lebanon.  The  road  is  hard, 
smooth,  white ;  the  soil  on  either  side  is  red ;  the  country  is  ex- 
ceedingly rich ;  we  pass  villas,  extensive  plantations  of  figs,  and 
great  forests  of  the  mulberry ;  for  the  silk  culture  is  the  chief 
industry,  and  small  factories  of  the  famous  Syrian  silks  are  scat- 
tered here  and  there.  As  the  road  winds  upward,  we  find  the 
hillsides  are  teiTaced  and  luxui'iant  with  fig-trees  and  grapevines, 
—  the  latter  flourishing,  in  fact,  to  the  very  top  of  the  mountains, 
say  5,200  feet  above  the  blue  MediteiTanean,  which  sparkles 
below  us.  Into  these  hills  the  people  of  Beyrout  come  to  pass 
the  heated  months  of  summer,  living  in  little  villas  which  are 
embowered  in  foliage  all  along  these  lovely  slopes.  We  en- 
counter a  new  sort  of  house ;  it  is  one  story  high,  built  of  lime- 
stone in  square  blocks  and  without  mortar,  having  a  flat  roof 
covered  witli  stones  and  soil,  —  a  very  primitive  construction,  but 
universal  here.  Sometimes  the  building  is  in  two  parts,  like  a 
double  log-cabin,  but  the  opening  between  the  two  is  always 
arched  :  so  much  for  art ;  but  otherwise  the  house,  without  win- 
dows, or  with  slits  only,  looks  like  a  section  of  stone-wall. 

As  we  rise,  we  begin  to  get  glimpses  of  the  snowy  peaks  which 
make  a  sharp  contrast  with  the  ravishing  view  behind  us,  —  the 
terraced  gorges,  the  profound  ravines,  the  vineyards,  gardens,  and 
orchards,  the  blue  sea,  and  the  white  road  winding  back  through 
all  like  a  ribbon.     As  we  look  down,  the  limestone  walls  of  the 


THE   GLORIES   OF  THE   LEBANON.  161 

terraces  are  concealed,  and  all  the  white  cliffs  are  hidden  by  the 
ample  verdure.  Entering  farther  into  the  mountains,  and  ascend- 
ing through  the  grim  Wady  Hammana,  we  have  the  considerable 
village  of  that  name  below  us  on  the  left,  lying  at  the  bottom  of  a 
vast  and  ash-colored  mountain  basin,  like  a  gray  heap  of  cinders 
on  the  edge  of  a  crater  bi'oken  away  at  one  side.  We  look  at  it 
with  interest,  for  there  Laraartiue  once  lived  for  some  months  in 
as  sentimental  a  seclusion  as  one  could  wish.  A  little  higher  up 
we  come  to  snow,  great  drifts  of  it  by  the  roadside,  —  a  phenom- 
enon entirely  beyond  the  comprehension  of  Abdallah,  who  has 
never  seen  sand  so  cold  as  this,  which,  nevertheless,  melts  in  his 
hands.  After  encountering  the  snow,  we  drive  into  a  cold  cloud, 
which  seems  much  of  the  time  to  hang  on  the  top  of  Lebanon, 
and  have  a  touch  of  real  winter,  —  a  disagreeable  experience  which 
we  had  hoped  to  eliminate  from  this  year ;  snow  is  only  tolerable 
when  seen  at  a  great  distance,  as  the  background  iu  a  summer 
landscape ;  near  at  hand  it  congeals  the  human  spirits. 

When  we  were  over  the  summit  and  had  emerged  from  the  thick 
cloud,  suddenly  a  surprise  greeted  us.  Opposite  was  the  range 
of  Anti-Lebanon ;  two  thousand  feet  below  us,  the  broad  plain, 
which  had  not  now  the  appearance  of  land,  but  of  some  painted 
scene,  —  a  singularity  which  is  partially  explained  by  the  I'ed  color 
of  the  soil.  But,  altogether,  it  presented  the  most  bewildering 
mass  of  color ;  if  the  valley  had  been  strewn  with  watered  silks 
over  a  carpet  of  Persian  rugs,  the  effect  might  have  been  the 
same.  There  were  patches  and  strips  of  green  and  of  brown, 
dashes  of  red,  blotches  of  burnt-umber  and  sienna,  alternations  of 
ploughed  field  and  young  gi-ain,  and  the  whole,  under  the  passing 
clouds,  took  the  sheen  of  the  opal.  The  hard,  shining  road  lay 
down  the  mountain-side  in  long  loops,  in  ox-bows,  in  curves  ever 
graceful,  like  a  long  piece  of  white  tape  flung  by  chance  from  the 
summit  to  the  valley.  We  dashed  down  it  at  a  great  speed, 
winding  backwards  and  forwards  on  the  mountain-side,  and  con- 
tinually shifting  our  point  of  view  of  the  glowing  picture. 

At  the  little  post-station  of  Stoura  we  left  the  Damascus  road 
and  struck  north  for  an  hour  towards  Ba'albek,  over  a  tolerable 
carriage-road.     But  the  road  ceased  at  Mu'allakah;  beyond  that, 


162  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

a  horseback  journey  of  six  or  seven  hours,  there  is  a  road-bed  to 
Ba'albek,  stoned  a  part  of  the  way,  and  intended  to  be  passable 
some  day.  Mu'allakah  lies  on  the  plain  at  the  opening  of  the 
wild  gorge  of  the  Berduny,  a  lively  torrent  which  dances  down  to 
join  the  Litany,  through  the  verdure  of  fruit-trees  and  slender 
poplars.  Over  a  mile  up  the  glen,  in  the  bosom  of  the  moun- 
tains, is  the  town  of  Zahleh,  the  largest  in  the  Lebanon ;  and 
there  we  purposed  to  pass  the  night,  having  been  commended  to 
the  hospitality  of  the  missionaries  there  by  Dr.  Jessup  of  Beyrout. 

Our  halted  establishment  drew  a  crowd  of  curious  spectators 
about  it,  mostly  women  and  children,  who  had  probably  never 
seen  a  carriage  before ;  they  examined  us  and  commented  upon 
us  with  perfect  freedom,  but  that  was  the  extent  of  their  hospi- 
tality, not  one  of  them  was  willing  to  earn  a  para  by  carrying  our 
baggage  to  Zahleh  ;  and  we  started  up  the  hiU,  leaving  the  drag- 
oman in  an  animated  quarrel  with  the  entire  population,  who,  in 
turn,  resented  his  comments  upon  their  want  of  religion  and 
good  raanneis. 

Climbing  up  a  stony  hill,  threading  gullies  and  ravines,  and 
finally  rough  streets,  we  came  into  the  amphitheatre  in  the  hills 
which  enclose  Zahleh.  The  town  is  unique  in  its  construction. 
Imagine  innumerable  small  whitewashed  wooden  houses,  rising 
in  concentric  circles,  one  above  the  other,  on  the  slopes  of  the 
basin,  like  the  chairs  on  the  teiTaces  of  a  Roman  circus.  The 
town  is  mostly  new,  for  the  Druses  captured  it  and  burned  it  in 
1860,  and  reminds  one  of  a  New  England  factory  village.  Its 
situation  is  a  stony,  ragged  basin,  three  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea;  the  tops  of  the  hills  behind  it  were  still  covered  with  snow, 
and  we  could  easily  fancy  that  we  were  in  Switzerland.  The  ten 
or  twelve  thousand  inhabitants  are  nearly  all  Maronites,  a  sect  of 
Christians  whom  we  should  call  Greeks,  but  who  are  in  commun- 
ion with  the  Latin  church;  a  people  ignorant  and  superstitious, 
governed  by  their  priests,  occasionally  turbulent,  and  always  on 
the  point  of  open  rupture  with  the  mysterious  and  subtle  Druses. 
Having  the  name  of  Christians  and  few  of  the  qualities,  they  are 
most  unpromising  subjects  of  missionary  labor.  Yet  the  mission 
here  makes  progress  and  converts,  and  we  Avere  glad  to  see  that 
the  American  missionaries  were  universally  respected. 


THE  AMERICAN  MISSIONARIES.  163 

Fortunately  the  American  name  and  Christianity  are  exceed- 
ingly well  represented  in  Northern  Syria  by  gentlemen  who  niiite 
a  thorough  and  varied  scholarship  with  Christian  simplicity,  ener- 
gy, and  enthusiasm.  At  first  it  seems  hard  that  so  much  talent 
and  culture  should  be  hidden  away  in  such  a  place  as  Zahleh,  and 
we  were  inclined  to  lament  a  lot  so  far  removed  from  the  living 
sympathies  of  the  world.  It  seems,  indeed,  almost  hopeless  to 
make  any  impression  in  this  antique  and  conceited  mass  of  super- 
stition. But  if  Syria  is  to  be  regenerated,  and  to  be  ever  the 
home  of  an  industrious,  clean,  and  moral  people,  in  sympathy 
with  the  enlightened  world,  the  change  is  to  be  made  by  exhibit- 
ing to  the  people  a  higher  type  of  Christianity  than  they  have 
known  hitherto,  —  a  Christianity  that  reforms  manners,  and  betters 
the  social  condition,  and  adds  a  new  interest  to  life  by  lifting  it  to 
a  higher  plane  ;  physical  conditions  must  visibly  improve  under  it. 
It  is  not  enough  in  a  village  like  this  of  Zahleh,  for  instance,  to 
set  up  a  new  form  of  Christian  worship,  and  let  it  drone  on  in  a 
sleepy  fashion,  however  devout  and  circumspect.  It  needs  men 
of  talent,  scientific  attainment,  practical  sagacity,  who  shall  make 
the  Christian  name  respected  by  superior  qualities,  as  well  as  by 
devout  lives.  They  must  show  a  better  style  of  living,  more 
thrift  and  comfort,  than  that  which  prevails  here.  The  people 
will  by  and  by  see  a  logical  connection  between  a  well-ordered 
house  and  garden,  a  farm  scientifically  cultivated,  a  prosperous 
factory,  and  the  profitableness  of  honesty  and  industry,  with  the 
superior  civilization  of  our  "Western  Christianity.  You  can  al- 
ready see  the  influence  in  Syria  of  the  accomplished  scholars, 
skilful  physicians  and  surgeons,  men  versed  in  the  sciences,  in 
botany  and  geology,  who  are  able  to  understand  the  resources  of 
the  country,  who  are  supported  there,  but  not  liberally  enough 
supported,  by  the  Christians  of  America. 


XI. 

BA'ALBEK. 


WE  were  entertained  at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wood,  who 
accompanied  us  the  next  day  to  Ba'albek,  his  mission  ter- 
ritory including  that  ancient  seat  of  splendid  paganism.  Some 
sort  of  religious /6^^e  in  the  neighborhood  had  absorbed  the  best 
saddle-beasts,  and  we  were  indiflferently  mounted  on  the  refuse  of 
donkeys  and  horses,  Abdallah,  our  most  shining  possession,  rid- 
ing, as  usual,  on  the  top  of  a  pile  of  baggage.  The  inhabitants 
were  very  civil  as  we  passed  along ;  we  did  not  know  whether  to 
attribute  it  to  the  influence  of  the  missionaries  or  to  the  rarity 
of  travellers,  but  the  word  "  backsheesh  "  we  heard  not  once  in 
Zahleh. 

After  we  had  emerged  from  Mu'allakah  upon  the  open  plain, 
we  passed  on  our  left  hand  the  Moslem  village  of  Kerah  Nun, 
which  is  distinguished  as  the  burial-place  of  the  prophet  Noah ; 
but  we  contented  ourselves  with  a  sight  of  the  dome.  The 
mariner  lies  there  in  a  grave  seventy  feet  long,  or  seventy  yards, 
some  scoffers  say ;  but  this,  whatever  it  is,  is  not  the  measure 
of  the  patriarch.  The  grave  proved  too  short,  and  Noah  is 
buried  with  his  knees  bent,  and  his  feet  extending  downward  in 
the  ground. 

The  plain  of  Buka'a  is  some  ninety  miles  long,  and  in  this  por- 
tion of  it  about  ten  miles  broad ;  it  is  well  watered,  and  though 
the  red  soil  is  stuffed  with  small  stones,  it  is  very  fertile,  and 
would  yield  abundantly  if  cultivated  ;  but  it  is  mostly  an  aban- 
doned waste  of  weeds.  The  ground  rises  gradually  all  the  way 
to  Ba'albek,  starting  from  an  elevation  of  three  thousand  feet ; 


THE   METAWILEH.  165 

the  plain  is  rolling,  and  the  streams  which  rush  down  from  the 
near  mountains  are  very  s'nift.  Nothing  could  be  lovelier  than 
the  sno^y  ranges  of  mountains  on  either  hand,  in  contrast  with 
the  browns  and  reds  of  the  slopes,  —  like  our  own  autumn  foli- 
age, —  and  the  green  and  brown  plain,  now  sprinkled  Avith  wild- 
flowers  of  many  varieties. 

The  sky  was  covered  with  clouds,  great  masses  floating  about ; 
the  wind  from  the  hills  was  cold,  and  at  length  drove  us  to  our 
wraps ;  then  a  fine  rain  ensued,  but  it  did  not  last  long,  for  the 
rainy  season  was  over.  We  crossed  the  plain  diagonally,  and 
lunched  at  a  little  khan,  half  house  and  half  stable,  raised  above 
a  stream,  with  a  group  of  young  poplars  in  front.  "We  sat  on  a 
raised  divan  in  the  covered  court,  and  looked  out  through  the 
arched  doorway  over  a  lovely  expanse  of  plain  and  hills.  It  was 
difl[icult  to  tell  which  part  of  the  house  was  devoted  to  the  stable 
and  which  to  the  family ;  from  the  door  of  the  room  which  I  se- 
lected as  the  neatest  came  the  braying  of  a  donkey.  The  landlord 
and  his  wife,  a  young  woman  and  rather  pretty,  who  had  a  baby 
in  her  arms,  furnished  pipes  and  tobacco,  and  the  travellers  or 
idlers  —  they  are  one  —  sat  on  the  ground  smoking  narghilehs. 
A  squad  of  ruffianly  Metawileh,  a  sect  of  Moslems  who  follow 
the  Koran  strictly,  and  reject  the  traditions,  —  perhaps  like  those 
who  call  themselves  Bible  Christians  in  distinction  from  theologi- 
cal Christians,  —  came  from  the  field,  deposited  their  ploughs, 
which  they  carried  on  their  shoulders,  on  the  platform  outside, 
and,  seating  themselves  in  a  row  in  the  khan,  looked  at  us  stol- 
idly. And  we,  having  the  opportunity  of  saying  so,  looked  at 
them  intelligently. 

We  went  on  obliquely  across  the  plain,  rising  a  little  through  a 
region  rich,  but  only  half  cultivated,  crossing  streams  and  floun- 
dering in  mud-holes  for  three  hours,  on  a  walk,  the  wind  grow- 
ing stronger  from  the  snow  mountains,  and  the  cold  becoming 
almost  unendurable.  It  was  in  vain  that  Abd-el-Atti  spun 
hour  after  hour  an  Arab  romance ;  not  even  the  warm  colors  of 
the  Oriental  imagination  could  soften  the  piteous  blast.  At 
length,  when  patience  was  nearly  gone,  in  a  depression  in  the 
plain,  close  to  the  foot-hills  of  Anti-Lebanon,  behold  the  great 


166  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

Ba'albek,  that  is  to  say,  a  Moslem  village  of  three  thousand  to 
four  thousand  inhabitants,  fairl}^  clean  and  sightly,  and  the  ruins 
just  on  the  edge  of  it,  the  six  well-known  gigantic  Corinthian 
pillars  standing  out  against  the  gray  sky.  Never  was  sight  more 
welcome. 

Ba'albek,  like  Zahleh,  has  no  inn,  and  we  lodged  in  a  private 
house  near  the  ruins.  The  house  was  one  story ;  it  consisted  of 
four  large  rooms  in  a  row,  looking  upon  the  stone-wall  enclosure, 
each  with  its  door,  and  with  no  communication  between  them. 
The  kitchen  was  in  a  separate  building.  These  rooms  had  high 
ceilings  of  beams  supporting  the  flat  roof,  windows  with  shutters 
but  without  glass,  divans  along  one  side,  and  in  one  corner  a  fire- 
place and  chimney.  Each  room  had  a  niche  extending  from  the 
floor  almost  to  the  ceiling,  in  which  the  beds  are  piled  in  the  day- 
time ;  at  night  they  are  made  up  on  the  divans  or  on  the  floor. 
This  is  the  common  pattern  of  a  Syrian  house,  and  when  we  got 
a  fire  blazing  in  the  big  chimney-place  and  began  to  thaw  out  our 
stiff"  limbs,  and  Abd-el-Atti  brought  in  something  from  the  kitchen 
that  was  hot  and  red  in  color  and  may  have  had  spice  on  the  top 
of  it,  we  found  this  the  most  comfortable  residence  in  the  world. 

It  is  the  business  of  a  dragoman  to  produce  the  improbable  in 
impossible  places.  Abd-el-Atti  rubbed  his  lamp  and  converted 
this  establishment  into  a  tolerable  inn,  with  a  prolific  kitchen  and 
an  abundant  table.  While  he  was  performing  this  revolution  we 
went  to  see  the  ruins,  the  most  noble  portions  of  which  have  sur- 
vived the  religion  and  almost  the  memory  of  the  builders. 

The  remains  of  the  temples  of  Ba'albek,  or  Hieropolis,  are  only 
elevated  as  they  stand  upon  an  artificial  platform ;  they  are  in  the 
depression  of  the  valley,  and  in  fact  a  considerable  stream  flows 
all  about  the  walls  and  penetrates  the  subten'anean  passages. 
This  water  comes  from  a  fountain  which  bursts  out  of  the  Anti- 
Lebanon  hills  about  half  a  mile  above  Ba'albek,  in  an  immense 
volume,  falls  into  a  great  basin,  and  flows  away  in  a  small  river. 
These  instantaneously  born  rivers  are  a  peculiarity  of  Syria ;  and 
they  often  disappear  as  suddeidy  as  they  come.  The  water  of  this 
Ba'albek  fountain  is  cold,  pure,  and  sweet ;  it  deserves  to  be  called 
a  "beverage,"  and  is,  so  far  as  my  experience  goes,  the  most 


RELICS   OF   THE   PHOENICIANS.  167 

agreeable  water  in  the  world.  The  Moslems  have  a  proverb  which 
expresses  its  unique  worth  :  "  The  water  of  Ba'albek  never  leaves 
its  home."  -It  rushes  past  the  village  almost  a  river  in  size,  and 
then  disappears  in  the  plain  below  as  suddenly  as  it  came  to  the 
light  above. 

We  made  our  way  across  the  stream  and  along  aqueducts  and 
over  heaps  of  shattered  walls  and  columns  to  the  west  end  of 
the  group  of  ruins.  This  end  is  defended  by  a  battlemented  wall 
some  fifty  feet  high,  which  was  built  by  the  Saracens  out  of  incon- 
gruous materials  from  older  constructions.  The  northeast  corner 
of  this  new  wall  rests  upon  the  ancient  Phoenician  wall,  which 
sustained  the  original  platform  of  the  sacred  buildings ;  and  at 
this  corner  are  found  the  three  famous  stones  which  at  one  time 
gave  a  name,  "  The  Three-Stoned,"  to  the  great  temple.  As  I  do 
not  intend  to  enter  into  the  details  of  these  often  described  ruins, 
I  will  say  here,  that  this  ancient  Phoenician  wall  appears  on  the 
north  side  of  the  platform  detached,  showing  that  the  most  an- 
cient temple  occupied  a  larger  area  than  the  Greek  and  Roman 
buildings. 

There  are  many  stones  in  the  old  platform  wall  which  are  thirty 
feet  long ;  but  the  three  large  ones,  which  are  elevated  twenty  feet 
above  the  ground,  and  are  in  a  line,  are  respectively  64  feet  long, 
63  feet  8  inches,  and  63  feet,  and  about  13  feet  in  height  and  in 
depth.  When  I  measured  the  first  stone,  I  made 'it  128  feet  long, 
which  I  knew  was  an  error,  but  it  was  only  by  careful  inspection 
that  I  discovered  the  joint  of  the  two  stones  which  I  had  taken 
for  one.  I  thought  this  a  practical  test  of  the  close  fit  of  these 
blocks,  which,  laid  without  mortar,  come  together  as  if  the  ends 
had  been  polished.  A  stone  larger  than  either  of  these  lies  in  the 
neighboring  quarry,  hewn  out  but  not  detached. 

These  massive  constructions,  when  first  rediscovered,  were  the 
subject  of  a  great  deal  of  wonder  and  speculation,  and  were  re- 
ferred to  a  remote  and  misty  if  not  fabulous  period.  1  believe  it 
is  now  agreed  that  they  were  the  work  of  the  Phoenicians,  or  Ca- 
naanites,  and  that  they  are  to  be  referred  to  a  period  subsequent 
to  the  conquest  of  Egypt,  or  at  least  of  the  Delta  of  Egypt,  by  the 
Hittites,  when  the  Egyptian  influence  was  felt  in  Syria ;  and  that 


168  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

this  Temple  of  the  Sun  was  at  least  suggested,  as  well  as  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Sun  god  here,  by  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Heliopolis 
on  the  Nile.  There  is,  to  be  sure,  no  record  of  the  great  city  of 
Ba'albek,  but  it  may  safely  be  referred  to  the  period  of  the  great- 
est prosperity  of  the  Phoenician  nation. 

Much  as  we  had  read  of  the  splendor  of  these  ruins,  and 
familiar  as  we  were  with  photographs  of  them,  we  were  struck 
with  surprise  when  we  climbed  up  into  the  great  court,  that  is,  to 
the  platform  of  the  temples.  The  platform  extends  over  eight 
hundred  feet  from  east  to  west,  an  elevated  theatre  for  the  display 
of  some  of  the  richest  architecture  in  the  world.  The  general 
view  is  broad,  impressive,  inspiring  beyond  anything  else  iu 
Egypt  or  Syria ;  and  when  we  look  at  details,  the  ruins  charm 
us  with  their  beauty.  Round  three  sides  of  the  great  court  runs 
a  wall,  the  interior  of  which,  recessed  and  niched,  was  once 
adorned  with  the  most  elaborate  carving  in  designs  more  grace- 
ful than  you  would  suppose  stone  could  lend  itself  to,  with  a 
frieze  of  garlands  of  vines,  flowers,  and  fruits.  Of  the  so-called 
great  Temple  of  Baal  at  the  west  end  of  the  platform,  only  six 
splendid  Corinthian  columns  remain.  The  so-called  Temple  of 
the  Sun  or  Jupiter,  to  the  south  of  the  other  and  on  a  lower 
level,  larger  than  the  Parthenon,  exists  still  in  nearly  its  original 
form,  although  some  of  the  exterior  columns  have  fallen,  and 
time  and  the  art-hating  Moslems  have  defaced  some  of  its  finest 
sculpture.  The  ceiling  between  the  outer  row  of  columns  and 
the  wall  of  this  temple  is,  or  was,  one  of  the  most  exquisite 
pieces  of  stone-carving  ever  executed ;  the  figures  carved  in  the 
medallions  seem  to  have  anticipated  the  Gothic  genius,  and  the 
exquisite  patterns  in  stone  to  have  suggestetl  the  subsequent 
Saracenic  invention.  The  composite  capitals  of  the  columns  offer 
an  endless  study ;  stone  roses  stand  out  upon  their  stems,  fniit 
and  flowers  hang  and  bloom  in  the  freedom  of  nature ;  the  carv- 
ing is  all  bold  and  spirited,  and  the  invention  endless.  This  is 
no  doubt  work  of  tlie  Roman  period  after  the  Christian  era,  but 
it  is  pervaded  by  Greek  feeling,  and  would  seem  to  have  been 
executed  by  Greek  artists. 

In  the  centre  of  the  great  court  (there  is  a  small  six-sided 


SUNSET   ON   THE   TEMPLES.  169 

court  to  the  east  of  the  larger  one,  which  was  once  approached 
by  a  great  flight  of  steps  from  below)  are  remains  of  a  Christian 
basilica,  referred  to  the  reign  of  Theodosius.  Underneath  the 
platform  are  enormous  vaults,  which  may  have  served  the  succes- 
sive occupants  for  store-houses.  The  Saracens  converted  this 
position  into  a  fortress,  and  this  military  impress  the  ruins  still 
bear.  We  have  therefore  four  ages  in  these  ruins :  the  Phojni- 
ciau,  the  Greek  and  Eoman,  the  Christian,  and  the  Saracenic. 
The  remains  of  the  first  are  most  enduring.  The  old  builders 
had  no  other  method  of  perpetuating  their  memory  except  by 
these  Cyclopean  constructions. 

We  saw  the  sunset  on  Ba'albek.  The  clouds  broke  away  and 
lay  in  great  rosy  masses  over  Lebanon ;  the  white  snow  ridge  for 
forty  miles  sparkled  under  them.  The  peak  of  Lebanon,  over  ten 
thousand  feet  above  us,  was  revealed  in  all  its  purity.  There  was 
a  red  light  on  the  columns  and  on  the  walls,  and  the  hills  of 
Anti-Lebanon,  red  as  a  dull  garnet,  were  speckled  with  snow 
patches.  The  imagination  could  conceive  nothing  more  beautiful 
than  the  rose-color  of  the  ruins,  the  flaming  sky,  and  the  immac- 
ulate snow  peaks,  apparently  so  close  to  us. 

On  our  return  we  stopped  at  the  beautiful  circular  temple  of 
Venus,  which  would  be  a  wonder  in  any  other  neighborhood. 
Dinner  awaited  us,  and  was  marked  by  only  one  novelty,  —  what 
we  at  first  took  to  be  brown  napkins,  fantastically  folded  and  laid 
at  each  plate,  a  touch  of  elegance  for  which  we  were  not  pre- 
pared. But  the  napkins  proved  to  be  bread.  It  is  made  of 
coarse  dark  wheat,  baked  in  circular  cakes  as  thin  as  brown 
paper,  and  when  folded  its  resemblance  to  a  napkin  is  complete. 
We  found  it  tolerably  palatable,  if  one  could  get  rid  of  the  notion 
that  he  was  eating  a  limp  rag.  The  people  had  been  advertised 
of  our  arrival,  and  men,  women,  and  boys  swarmed  about  us  to 
sell  copper  coins ;  most  of  them  Roman,  which  they  find  in  the 
ruins.  Pew  are  found  of  the  Greeks  ;  the  Romans  literally 
sowed  the  ground  with  copper  money  wherever  they  went  in  tlie 
Orient.  The  inhabitants  are  Moslems,  and  rather  decent  in 
appearance,  and  the  women  incline  to  good  looks,  though  not  so 
modest  in  dress  as  Moslem  women  usually  are ;  they  are  all  per- 


170  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

sistent  beggars,  and  bring  babies  in  their  arms,  borrowing  for 
that  purpose  all  the  infants  in  the  neighborhood,  to  incite  us  to 
charity. 

We  yielded  to  the  average  sentiment  of  Christendom,  and 
sallied  out  in  the  cold  night  to  see  the  ruins  under  the  light  of 
a  full  moon ;  one  of  the  party  going  simply  that  he  might  avoid 
the  reproach  of  other  travellers,  —  "  It  is  a  pity  you  did  not  see 
Ba'albek  by  moonlight."  And  it  must  be  confessed  that  these 
ruins  stand  the  dim  light  of  the  moon  better  than  most  ruins ; 
they  are  so  broad  and  distinct  that  they  show  themselves  even  in 
this  disadvantage,  which  those  of  Karnak  do  not.  The  six  iso- 
lated columns  seemed  to  float  in  the  sky ;  between  them  snowy 
Lebanon  showed  itself. 

The  next  morning  was  clear  and  sparkling  ;  the  sky  was  almost 
as  blue  as  it  is  in  Nubia.  We  were  awakened  by  the  drumming 
of  a  Moslem  procession.  It  was  the  great  annual  fete  day,  upon 
which  was  to  be  performed  the  miracle  of  riding  over  the  bodies 
of  the  devout.  The  ceremony  took  place  a  couple  of  miles  away 
upon  the  hill,  and  we  saw  on  all  the  paths  leading  thither  files  of 
men  and  women  in  white  garments.  The  sheykh,  mounted  on 
horseback,  rides  over  the  prostrate  bodies  of  all  who  throw  them- 
selves before  him,  and  the  number  includes  young  men  as  well  as 
darwishes.  As  they  lie  packed  close  together  and  the  horse  treads 
upon  their  spinal  columns,  their  escape  from  death  is  called  mirac- 
ulous. The  Christians  tried  the  experiment  here  a  year  or  two 
ago,  several  young  fellows  submitting  to  let  a  horseman  trample 
over  them,  in  order  to  show  the  Moslems  that  they  also  possessed 
a  religion  which  could  stand  horses'  hoofs. 

The  ruins,  under  the  intense  blue  sky,  and  in  the  splendid  sun- 
light, were  more  impressive  than  in  the  dull  gray  of  the  day 
before,  or  even  in  the  rosy  sunset ;  their  imperial  dignity  is  not 
impaired  by  the  excessive  wealth  of  ornamentation.  When  upon 
this  platform  there  stood  fifty-eight  of  these  noble  columns,  in- 
stead of  six,  conspicuous  from  afar,  and  the  sunlight  poured  into 
this  superb  court,  adorned  by  the  genius  of  Athens  and  the  wealth 
of  Rome,  this  must  have  been  one  of  the  most  resplendent  tem< 
pies  in  existence,  rivalling  the  group  upon  the  Acropolis  itself 


BA'ALBEK.  171 

Nothing  more  marks  the  contrast  between  the  religions  of  the 
Greeks  and  Komans  and  of  the  Egyptians,  or  rather  between  the 
genius  of  the  two  civilizations,  than  their  treatment  of  sacred  edi- 
fices. And  it  is  all  the  more  to  be  noted,  because  the  more  mod- 
ern nations  accepted  Avithout  reserve  any  god  or  object  of  venera- 
tion or  mystery  in  the  Egyptian  pantheon.  The  Koman  occu- 
pants of  the  temple  of  Philae  sacrificed  without  scruple  upon  the 
altars  of  Osiris,  and  the  voluptuous  Grseco-Romans  of  Pompeii 
built  a  temple  to  Tsis.  Yet  always  and  everywhere  the  Grecians 
and  the  Romans  sought  conspicuous  situations  for  the  temples  of 
the  gods  ;  they  felt,  as  did  our  Pilgrim  Fathers,  who  planted  their 
meeting-houses  on  the  windiest  hills  of  New  England,  that  the 
deity  was  most  honored  when  the  house  of  his  worship  was  most 
visible  to  men ;  but  the  Egyptians,  on  the  contrary,  buried  the 
magnificence  of  their  temples  within  wall  around  wall,  and  per- 
mitted not  a  hint  of  their  splendor  to  the  Avorld  outside.  It  is 
worth  while  to  notice  also  that  the  Assyrians  did  not  share  the 
contemporary  reticence  of  the  Egyptians,  but  built  their  altars 
and  temples  high  above  the  plain  in  pyramidal  stages ;  and  if  we 
may  judge  by  this  platform  at  Ba'albek,  the  Phoenicians  did  not 
imitate  the  exclusive  spirit  of  the  Pharaonic  worshippers. 

We  lingered,  called  again  and  again  by  the  impatient  drago- 
man, in  this  fascinating  spot,  amid  the  visible  monuments  of  so 
many  great  races,  bearing  the  marks  of  so  many  religious  revolu- 
tions, and  turned  away  with  slow  and  reluctant  steps,  as  those 
who  abandon  an  illusion  or  have  not  yet  thought  out  some  sug- 
gestion of  the  imagination.  We  turned  also  with  reluctance  from 
a  real  illusion  of  the  senses.  In  the  clear  atmosphere  the  ridge 
of  Lebanon  Avas  startlingly  near  to  us  ;  the  snow  summit  appeared 
to  overhang  Ba'albek  as  Vesuvius  does  Pompeii ;  and  yet  it  is 
half  a  day's  journey  across  the  plain  to  the  base  of  the  mountain, 
and  a  whole  day's  journey  from  these  ruins  to  the  summit.  But 
although  this  illusion  of  distance  did  not  continue  as  we  rode 
down  the  valley,  w^e  had  on  either  hand  the  snow  ranges  all  day, 
making  by  contrast  with  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  plain  a  lovely 
picture. 


XII. 

ON  THE  ROAD  TO  DAMASCUS. 


THE  station  at  Stoura  is  a  big  stable  and  a  dirty  little  inn, 
which  has  the  kitchen  in  one  shanty,  the  diiung-room  in 
another,  and  the  beds  in  a  third ;  a  swift  mountain  stream  runs 
behind  it,  and  a  grove  of  poplars  on  the  banks  moans  and  rustles 
in  the  wind  that  draws  down  the  Lebanon  gorge.  It  was  after 
dark  when  we  arrived,  but  whether  our  coming  put  the  estabb'sh- 
ment  into  a  fluster,  I  doubt ;  it  seems  to  be  in  a  chronic  state  of 
excitement.  The  inn  was  kept  by  Italians,  who  have  a  genius  for 
this  sort  of  hotel ;  the  landlord  was  Andrea,  but  I  suspect  the 
real  authority  resided  in  his  plump,  bright,  vivacious  wife.  They 
had  an  heir,  however,  a  boy  of  eight,  who  proved  to  be  the  tyrant 
of  the  house  when  he  appeared  upon  the  scene.  The  servants 
were  a  tall  slender  Syrian  girl,  an  active  and  irresponsible  boy, 
and  a  dark-eyed  little  maid,  in  the  limp  and  dii'ty  single  garment 
which  orphans  always  wear  on  the  stage,  and  who  in  fact  was  an 
orphan,  and  appeared  to  take  the  full  benefit  of  her  neglected 
and  jolly  life.  The  whole  establishment  was  on  a  lark,  and  in  a 
perpetual  giggle,  and  communicated  its  overflo\ving  good-humor 
even  to  tired  travellers.  The  well-favored  little  wife,  who  exhib- 
ited the  extremes  of  fortune  in  a  diamond  ring  and  a  torn  and 
draggled  calico  gown,  sputtered  alternately  French  and  Italian 
like  a  magpie,  laughed  with  a  contagious  men*iment,  and  actually 
made  the  cheerless  accommodations  she  offered  us  appear  desir- 
able. The  whole  family  waited  on  us,  or  rather  kept  iis  waiting 
on  them,  at  table,  bringing  us  a  dish  now  and  then  as  if  its  pro- 
duction were  a  joke,  talking  all  the  while  among  themselves  in 


A   MERRY    INN.  173 

Arabic,  and  apparently  about  us,  and  laughing  at  their  own 
observations,  until  we,  even,  came  to  conceive  ourselves  as  a  party* 
in  a  most  comical  light ;  and  so  amusing  did  we  grow  that  the 
slim  girl  and  the  son-y  oi"phan  were  forced  to  rush  into  a  comer 
every  few  minutes  and  laugh  it  out. 

I  spent  a  pleasant  hour  in  the  kitchen,  —  an  isolated,  smoke- 
dried  room  with  an  earth  floor,  —  endeavoring  to  warm  my  feet  at 
the  little  fires  of  charcoal  kindled  in  holes  on  top  of  a  bank  of  earth 
and  stone,  and  watching  the  pranks  of  this  merry  and  industrious 
family.  The  little  heir  amused  himself  by  pounding  the  orphan, 
kicking  the  shins  of  the  boy,  and  dashing  water  in  the  face  of 
the  slim  girl,  —  treatment  which  the  servants  dared  not  resent, 
since  the  father  laughed  over  it  as  an  exhibition  of  bravery  and 
vivacity.  Pragrant  steam  came  from  a  pot,  in  vrhich  quail  were 
stewing  for  the  passengers  by  the  night  mail,  and  each  person  who 
appeared  in  the  kitchen,  in  turn,  gave  this  pot  a  stir ;  the  lively 
boy  pounded  coffee  in  a  big  mortar,  put  charcoal  on  the  fire,  had 
a  tussle  with  the  heir,  threw  a  handspring,  doing  nothing  a  min- 
ute at  a  time ;  the  orphan  slid  in  with  a  bucket  of  water,  slop- 
ping it  in  all  directions  ;  the  heir  set  up  a  howl  and  kicked  his 
father  because  he  was  not  allowed  to  kick  the  orphan  any  more ; 
the  little  wife  came  in  like  a  breeze,  whisking  eveiybody  one 
side,  and  sympathized  with  dear  little  Eobby,  whose  cruel  and 
ugly  papa  was  holding  the  love  from  barking  his  father's  shins. 
You  do  not  often  see  a  family  that  enjoys  itself  so  much  as  this. 

It  was  late  next  morning  when  we  tore  ourselves  from  this  en- 
chanting household,  and  went  at  a  good  pace  over  the  fertile  plain, 
straight  towards  Anti-Lebanon,  having  a  glimpse  of  the  snow  of 
Mount  Hermon,  —  a  long  ridge  peering  over  the  hills  to  the 
southeast,  and  crossing  in  turn  the  Litany  and  the  deep  Anjar, 
which  bursts  forth  from  a  single  fountain  about  a  mile  to  the 
north.  On  our  left  we  saw  some  remains  of  what  was  once  a 
capital  city,  Chalcis,  of  unknown  origin,  but  an  old  city  before  it 
was  possessed  by  the  Ptolemies,  or  by  Mark  Antony,  and  once 
the  luxurious  residence  of  the  Herod  family.  At  Medjel,  a  vil- 
lage scattered  at  the  foot  of  small  tells  rising  in  the  plain,  we 
turned  into  the  hills,  leaving  unvisited  a  conspicuous  Roman  tern- 


174  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

pie  on  a  peak  above  the  town.  The  road  winds  gradually  up  a 
wady.  As  we  left  the  plain,  and  looked  back  across  it  to  Leba- 
non, the  colors  of  Buka'a  and  the  mountain  gave  us  a  new  sur- 
prise ;  they  were  brilliant  and  yet  soft,  as  gay  and  splendid  as  the 
rocks  of  the  Yellowstone,  and  yet  exquisitely  blended  as  in  a  Per- 
sian rug. 

The  hill-country  was  almost  uninhabited ;  except  the  stations 
and  an  occasional  Bedaween  camp  there  was  small  sign  of  occu- 
pation ;  the  ground  was  uncultivated ;  peasants  in  rags  were  grub- 
bing up  the  roots  of  cedars  for  fuel.  We  met  Druses  with  trains 
of  mules,  Moslems  with  camels  and  mules,  and  long  processions  of 
white-topped  wagons,  —  like  the  Western  "  prairie  schooner  "  — 
drawn  each  by  three  mules  tandem.  Thirty  and  forty  of  these 
freight  vehicles  travel  in  company,  and  we  were  continually  meet- 
ing or  passing  them  ;  their  number  is  an  indication  of  the  large  trade 
that  Damascus  has  with  Beyrout  and  the  Mediterranean.  There 
is  plenty  of  color  in  the  people  and  in  their  costume.  We  were 
told  that  we  could  distinguish  the  Druses  by  their  furtive  and  bad 
countenances  ;  but  for  this  information  I  should  not  have  seen  that 
they  differed  much  from  the  Maronites ;  but  I  endeavored  to  see  the 
treacherous  villain  in  them.  I  have  noticed  in  Syria  that  the  Cath- 
olic travellers  have  a  good  opinion  of  the  Maronites  and  hate  the 
Druses,  that  the  American  residents  think  little  of  the  Maronites, 
and  that  the  English  have  a  lenient  side  for  the  Druses.  The 
Moslems  consistently  despise  all  of  them.  The  Druse  has  been  a 
puzzle.  There  are  the  same  hoiTible  stories  current  about  him 
that  were  believed  of  the  early  Christians ;  the  Moslem  belitves 
that  infants  are  slain  and  eaten  in  his  midnight  assemblies,  and 
that  once  a  year  the  Druse  community  meets  in  a  cavern  at  mid- 
night, the  lights  are  extinguished,  and  the  sexes  mingling  by 
chance  in  the  license  of  darkness  choose  companions  for  the 
year.  But  the  Druse  creed,  long  a  secret,  is  now  known ;  they 
are  the  disciples  of  Hakim,  a  Khalif  of  the  Fatimite  dynasty; 
they  believe  in  the  unity  of  God  and  his  latest  manifestation  in 
Hakim ;  they  are  as  much  a  political  as  a  religious  society ;  they 
are  accomplished  hypocrites,  cunning  in  plotting  and  bold  in 
action ;  they  profess  to  possess  "  the  truth,"  and  having  this,  they 


THE  DRUSES. —  THE   ABANA.  175 

are  indifferent  to  externals,  and  are  willing  to  be  Moslems  with 
the  Moslems  and  Christians  with  the  Christians,  while  inwardly 
feeling  a  contempt  for  both.  They  are  the  most  supercilious  of 
all  the  Eastern  sects.  Wbat  they  are  about  to  do  is  always  the 
subject  of  anxiety  in  the  Lebanon  regions. 

At  the  stations  of  the  road  we  found  usually  a  -vvretched  family 
or  two  dwelling  in  a  shanty,  half  stable  and  half  cafe,  always  a 
woman  with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  and  the  superabundant  fountains 
for  nourishing  it  displayed  to  all  the  world ;  generally  some  slat- 
ternly girls,  and  groups  of  rough  muleteers  and  drivers  smoking. 
At  one,  I  remember  a  Jew  who  sold  antique  gems,  rings,  and 
coins,  with  a  shocking  face,  which  not  only  suggested  the  first 
fall  of  his  race,  but  all  the  advantages  he  has  since  taken  of  his 
innocent  fellows,  by  reason  of  his  preoccupation  of  his  position 
of  knowledge  and  depravity. 

We  made  always,  except  in  the  steep  ascents,  about  ten  miles 
an  hour.  The  management  of  the  route  is  the  perfection  of 
French  system  and  bureaucracy.  We  travel  with  a  way-bill  of 
numbered  details,  as  if  we  were  a  royal  mail.  At  every  station 
we  change  one  horse,  so  that  we  always  have  a  fi'esh  animal.  The 
way-biU  is  at  every  station  signed  by  the  agent,  and  the  minute 
of  arrival  and  departure  exactly  noted ;  each  horse  has  its  num- 
ber, and  the  number  of  the  one  taken  and  the  one  left  is  entered. 
All  is  life  and  promptness  at  the  stations ;  changes  are  quickly 
made.  The  way-bill  would  show  the  company  the  exact  time 
between  stations  ;  but  I  noticed  that  our  driver  continually  set 
his  watch  backwards  and  forwards,  and  I  found  that  he  and  the 
dragoman  had  a  private  understanding  to  conceal  our  delays  for 
lunch,  for  traffic  with  Jews,  or  for  the  enjoyment  of  scenery. 

After  we  had  crossed  the  summit  of  the  first  ridge  we  dashed 
down  the  gate  of  a  magnificent  canon,  the  rocks  heaved  up  in 
perpendicular  strata,  overhanging,  craggy,  crumbled,  wild.  We 
crossed  then  a  dreary  and  nearly  arid  basin ;  climbed,  by  curves 
and  zigzags,  another  ridge,  and  then  went  rapidly  down  until  we 
strxick  the  wild  and  narrow  gorge  of  the  sacred  Abana.  Imme- 
diately luxuriant  vegetable  life  began.  The  air  was  sweet  with 
the  blossoms  of  the  mish-mish  (apricot),  and  splendid  walnuts 


176  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

and  poplars  oversliadowed  us.  The  river,  swollen  and  rushing 
amid  the  trees  on  its  banks,  was  frightfully  rapid.  The  valley 
^^^nds  sharply,  and  gives  room  only  for  the  river  and  the  road, 
and  sometimes  only  for  one  of  them.  Sometimes  the  river  is 
taken  out  of  its  bed  and  carried  along  one  bank  or  the  other ; 
sometimes  the  road  crosses  it,  and  again  pursues  its  way  between 
its  divided  streams.  We  were  excited  by  its  rush  and  volume, 
and  by  the  rich  vegetation  along  its  sides.  We  came  to  fantastic 
Saracenic  country-seats,  to  arcaded  and  latticed  houses  set  high 
up  over  the  river,  to  evidences  of  wealth  and  of  proximity  to  a 
great  city. 

Suddenly,  for  we  seemed  to  have  become  a  part  of  the  rushing 
torrent  and  to  share  its  rapidity,  we  burst  out  of  the  gorge,  and 
saw  the  river,  overpassing  its  narrow  banks,  flomng  straight  on 
before  us,  and  beyond,  on  a  level,  the  minarets  and  domes  of 
Damascus  !  All  along  the  river,  on  both  banks  of  it,  and  along 
the  high  wall  by  the  roadside,  were  crowds  of  men  in  Turkish 
costume,  of  women  in  pure  white,  of  Arabs  sitting  quietly  by 
the  stream  smoking  the  narghdeh,  squatting  in  rows  along  the 
wall  and  along  the  water,  all  pidling  at  the  water-pipe.  There 
were  tents  and  booths  erected  by  the  river.  In  a  further  reach  of 
it  men  and  boys  were  bathing.  Ranks  and  gi'oups  of  veiled 
women  and  children  crouched  on  the  damp  soil  close  to  the  flood, 
or  sat  immovable  on  some  sandy  point.  It  is  a  delicious  holiday 
for  two  or  three  women  to  sit  the  livelong  day  by  water,  running 
or  stagnant,  to  sit  there  with  their  veils  drawn  over  their  heads, 
as  rooted  as  water-plants,  and  as  inanimate  as  bags  of  flour.  It 
was  a  striking  Oriental  picture,  played  on  by  the  sun,  enlivened 
by  the  swift  current,  which  dashes  full  into  the  city. 

As  we  spun  on,  the  crowd  thickened,  —  soldiers,  grave  Turks 
on  caparisoned  horses  or  white  donkeys,  Jews,  blacks,  Persians. 
We  crossed  a  trembling  bridge,  and  rattled  into  town  over  stony 
pavements,  forced  our  way  with  difficulty  into  streets  narrow  and 
broken  by  sharp  turns,  the  carriage-wheels  scarcely  missing  men 
and  chUdren  stretched  on  the  ground,  who  refused,  on  the  theory 
of  their  occupation  of  the  soil  prior  to  the  invention  of  wheels, 
to  draw  in  even  a  leg ;  and,  in  a  confused  whirl  of  novel  sights 


AN   ORIENTAL   HOTEL.  177 

and  discordant  yells,  barks,  and  objurgations,  we  came  to  Dimitri's 
hotel.  The  carriage  stopped  in  the  narrow  street ;  a  small  door 
in  the  waU,  a  couple  of  feet  above  the  pavement,  opened,  and  we 
stepped  through  into  a  little  court  occupied  by  a  fountain  and  an 
orange-tree  loaded  with  golden  fruit.  Thence  Ave  passed  into  a 
large  court,  the  centre  of  the  hotel,  where  the  Abana  pours  a 
generous  supply  into  a  vast  marble  basin,  and  trees  and  shrubs 
offer  shelter  to  singing  birds.  About  us  was  a  wilderness  of  bal- 
conies, staircases,  and  corridors,  the  sun  flooding  it  aU;  and 
Dimitri  himself,  sleek,  hospitable,  stood  bowing,  in  a  red  fez,  silk 
gown,  and  long  gold  chain. 


8* 


XIII. 

THE  OLDEST  OF  CITIES. 

IT  is  a  popiilar  opinion  that  there  is  nothing  of  man's  work 
older  than  Damascus  ;  there  is  certainly  nothing  newer.  The 
city  preserves  its  personal  identity  as  a  man  keeps  his  from  youth 
to  age,  through  the  constant  change  of  substance.  The  man  has 
in  his  body  not  an  atom  of  the  boy  ;  but  if  the  boy  incurred 
scars,  they  are  perpetuated  in  the  man.  Damascus  has  some 
scars.  We  say  of  other  ancient  cities,  "  This  part  is  old,  that 
part  is  new."  We  say  of  Damascus,  its  life  is  that  of  a  tree, 
decayed  at  heart,  dropping  branches,  casting  leaves,  but  always 
renewing  itself. 

How  old  is  Damascus  ?  Or,  rather,  how  long  has  a  city  of 
that  name  existed  here  on  the  banks  of  the  Abana  ?  According 
to  Jewish  tradition,  which  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt,  it  was 
founded  by  Uz,  the  son  of  Aram,  the  son  of  Shem.  By  the 
same  tradition  it  was  a  gi'eat  city  when  a  remarkable  man,  of  the 
tenth  generation  from  the  Deluge,  —  a  person  of  great  sagacity, 
not  mistaken  in  his  opinions,  skilful  in  the  celestial  science,  com- 
pelled to  leave  Chaldea  when  he  was  seventy-five  years  old,  on 
account  of  his  religious  opinions,  since  he  ventured  to  publish 
the  notion  that  there  was  but  one  God,  the  Creator  of  the  Uni- 
verse, —  came  with  an  army  of  dependants  and  "  reigned  "  in  the 
city  of  Uz.  After  some  time  Abraham  removed  into  Canaan, 
which  was  already  occupied  by  the  Canaanites,  who  had  come 
from  the  Persian  Gulf,  established  themselves  in  wall-towns  in  the 
hills,  built  Sidon  on  the  coast,  and  carried  their  conquests  into 
Egypt.     It  was  doubtless  during  the  reign  of  the  Hittites,  or 


COMPARED  WITH   NILE   CITIES.  179 

Shepherd  Kings,  that  Abraham  visited  Egypt.  Those  usurpers 
occupied  the  throne  of  the  Pharaohs  for  something  like  five  hun- 
dred years,  and  it  was  during  their  occupancy  that  the  Jews  set- 
tled in  the  Delta. 

Now,  if  we  can  at  all  fix  the  date  of  the  reign  of  the  Shepherd 
Kings,  we  can  approximate  to  the  date  of  the  foundation  of  Damas- 
cus, for  Uz  was  the  third  generation  from  Noah,  and  Abraham  was 
the  tenth.  We  do  not  know  how  to  reckon  a  generation  in  those 
days,  when  a  life-lease  was  such  a  valuable  estate,  but  if  we  should 
assume  it  to  be  a  century,  we  should  have  about  seven  hundred 
years  between  the  foundation  of  Damascus  and  the  visit  of  Abra- 
ham to  Eg}"pt,  a  ver}^  liberal  margin.  But  by  the  chronology  of 
Mariette  Bey,  the  approximate  date  of  the  Shepherds'  invasion 
is  2300  B.  c.  to  2200  B.C.,  and  somewhat  later  than  that  time 
Abraham  was  in  Damascus.  If  Damascus  was  then  seven  hun- 
dred years  old,  the  date  of  its  foundation  would  he  about  3000  B.  c. 
to  2900  B.  c. 

Assuming  that  Damascus  has  this  positive  old  age,  how  old 
is  it  comparatively  ?  When  we  regard  it  in  tliis  light,  we  are 
obliged  to  confess  that  it  is  a  modern  city.  When  Uz  and  his 
friends  wandered  out  of  the  prolific  East,  and  pitched  their  tents 
by  the  Abana,  there  was  already  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  a  civil- 
ized, polished  race,  which  had  nearly  completed  a  cycle  of  national 
existence  much  longer  than  the  duration  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
It  was  about  the  eleventh  dynasty  of  the  Egyptian  kingdom,  the 
Great  Pyramid  had  been  built  more  than  a  thousand  years,  and 
the  already  degenerate  Egyptians  of  the  "  Old  Empire  "  had  for- 
gotten the  noble  art  which  adorned  and  still  renders  illustrious 
the  reigns  of  the  pyramid-builders. 

But  if  Damascus  cannot  claim  the  highest  antiquity,  it  has  out- 
lived all  its  rivals  on  the  earth,  and  has  flourished  in  a  freshness 
as  perennial  as  the  fountain  to  which  it  owes  its  life,  through  all 
the  revolutions  of  the  Orient.  As  a  necessary  commercial  capital 
it  has  pursued  a  pretty  uniform  tenor  under  all  its  various  mas- 
ters. Tiglath-Pileser  attempted  to  destroy  it ;  it  was  a  Babylo- 
nian and  then  a  Persian  satrapy  for  centuries  ;  it  Avas  a  Greek  city  ; 
it  was  the  capital  of  a  Roman  province  for  seven  hundred  years ; 


180  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

it  was  a  Christian  city  and  reared  a  great  temple  to  John  the  Bap- 
tist ;  it  was  the  capital  of  the  Saracenic  Empire,  in  which  resided 
the  ruler  who  gave  laws  to  all  the  lands  from  India  to  Spain ;  it 
was  ravaged  by  Tamerlane ;  it  now  suffers  the  blight  of  Turkish 
imbecility.  Prom  of  old  it  was  a  caravan  station  and  a  mart  of 
exchange,  a  camp  by  a  stream ;  it  is  to-day  a  commercial  hive, 
swarming  with  an  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  people,  a  city  with- 
out monuments  of  its  past  or  ambition  for  its  future. 

If  one  could  see  Damascus,  perhaps  he  could  invent  a  phrase 
that  would  describe  it ;  but  when  you  have  groped  and  stumbled 
about  in  it  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  endeavoring  in  vain  to  get  a 
view  of  more  than  a  few  rods  of  it  at  a  time,  you  are  utterly  at  a 
loss  how  to  convey  an  impression  of  it  to  others. 

If  Egypt  is  the  gift  of  the  Nile,  the  river  Abana  is  the  life  of 
Damascus ;  its  water  is  carried  into  the  city  on  a  dozen  different 
levels,  making  it  literally  one  of  fountains  and  running  water. 
Sometimes  the  town  is  flooded ;  the  water  had  only  just  subsided 
from  the  hotel  when  we  arrived.  This  inundation  makes  the  city 
damp  for  a  long  time.  Indeed,  it  is  at  all  times  rather  soaked 
with  water,  and  is  —  with  all  respect  to  Uz  and  Abraham  and  the 
dynasty  of  the  Omeiyades  —  a  sort  of  habitable  frog-pond  on  a 
grand  scale.  At  night  the  noise  of  frogs,  even  at  our  hotel,  is  the 
chief  music,  the  gentle  twilight  song,  broken,  it  is  true,  by  the 
incessant  howling  and  yelping  of  savage  dogs,  packs  of  which 
roam  the  city  like  wolves  all  night.  They  are  mangy  yellow  curs, 
without  a  single  good  quality,  except  that  they  sleep  aU  the  day- 
time. In  everjr  quarter  of  the  city  you  see  ranks  and  rows  of 
them  asleep  in  the  sun,  occupying  half  the  street  and  nestling  in 
all  the  heaps  of  rubbish.  But  much  as  has  been  said  of  the  dogs 
here,  I  think  the  frogs  are  the  feature  of  the  town ;  they  are  as 
numerous  as  in  the  marshes  of  Eavenna. 

Still  the  water  coidd  not  be  spared.  It  gives  sparkle,  life,  ver- 
dure. In  Avalking  you  constantly  get  glimpses  through  heavy 
doorways  of  fountains,  marble  tanks  of  running  water,  of  a 
blooming  tree  or  a  rose-trellis  in  a  marble  court,  of  a  garden  of 
flowers.  The  crooked,  twisted,  narrow  streets,  mere  lanes  of  mud- 
walls,   would   be   scarcely   endurable    but   for  these   occasional 


PIPES  AND  SMOKERS.  181 

glimpses,  and  the  sight  now  and  then  of  the  paved,  pillared  court 
of  a  gayly  painted  mosque. 

One  ought  not  to  complain  when  the  Arab  barber  who  trims 
his  hair  gives  him  a  narghileh  to  smoke  during  the  operation ;  but 
Damascus  is  not  so  Oriental  as  Cairo,  the  predominant  Turkish 
element  is  not  so  picturesque  as  the  Egyptian.  And  this  must 
be  said  in  the  face  of  the  universal  use  of  the  narghileh,  which 
more  than  any  other  one  thing  imparts  an  Oriental,  luxurious 
tone  to  the  city.  The  pipe  of  Egypt  is  the  chibouk,  a  stem  of 
cherry  five  feet  long  with  a  small  clay  bowl ;  however  richly  it 
may  be  ornamented,  furnished  with  a  costly  amber  mouthpiece, 
wound  with  wire  of  gold,  and  studded,  as  it  often  is,  with  dia- 
monds and  other  stones  of  price,  it  is,  at  the  best,  a  stiff  affair ; 
and  even  this  pipe  is  more  and  more  displaced  by  the  cigar,  just 
as  in  Germany  the  meerschaum  has  yielded  to  the  cigar  as  the  Ger- 
mans have  become  accessible  to  foreign  influences.  But  in  Da- 
mascus the  picturesque  narghileh,  encourager  of  idleness,  is  still 
the  universal  medium  of  smoke.  The  management  of  the  narghi- 
leh requires  that  a  person  should  give  his  undivided  mind  to  it ; 
in  return  for  that,  it  gives  him  peace.  The  simplest  narghileh  is 
a  cocoanut-shell,  Avith  a  flexible  stem  attached,  and  an  open  metal 
bowl  on  top  for  the  tobacco.  The  smoke  is  drawn  through  the 
water  which  the  shell  contains.  Other  narghilehs  have  a  glass 
standard  and  water-bowl,  and  a  flexible  stem  two  or  three  yards 
in  length.  The  smoker,  seated  cross-legged  before  this  graceful 
object,  appears  to  be  worshipping  his  idol.  The  mild  Persian 
tobacco  is  kept  alight  by  a  slowly  burning  piece  of  dried  refuse 
which  is  kindly  furnished  by  the  camel  for  fuel ;  and  the  smoke 
is  inhaled  into  the  lungs,  and  slowly  expelled  from  the  nostrils 
and  the  mouth.  Although  the  hastily  rolled  cigarette  is  the 
resort  of  the  poor  in  Egypt,  and  is  somewhat  used  here,  it  must 
be  a  very  abandoned  wretch  Avho  cannot  afford  a  pull  at  a  narghi- 
leh in  Damascus.  Its  universality  must  excuse  the  long  para- 
graph I  have  devoted  to  this  pipe.  You  see  men  smoking  it  in 
all  the  cafes,  in  all  the  shops,  by  the  roadside,  seated  in  the 
streets,  in  every  garden,  and  on  the  house-tops.  The  visible 
occupation  of  Damascus  is  sucking  this  pipe. 


182  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Our  first  walk  in  the  city  was  on  Sunday  to  the  church  of  the 
Presbyterian  mission ;  on  our  way  we  threaded  a  wilderness  of 
bazaars,  nearly  all  of  them  roofed  over,  most  of  them  sombre  and 
gloomy.  Only  in  the  glaring  heat  of  summer  could  they  be 
agreeable  places  of  refuge.  The  roofing  of  these  tortuous  streets 
and  lanes  is  not  so  much  to  exclude  the  sun,  I  imagine,  as  to 
keep  out  the  snow,  and  the  roofs  are  consequently  substantial ; 
for  Damascus  has  an  experience  of  winter,  being  twenty-two  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea-level,  nearly  as  high  as  Jerusalem.  These 
bazaars,  so  much  vaunted  aU  through  the  Orient,  disappointed  us, 
not  in  extent,  for  they  are  interminable,  but  in  wanting  the  pic- 
turesqueness,  oddity,  and  richness  of  those  of  Cairo.  And  this, 
like  the  general  appearance  of  the  city,  is  a  disappointment  hard 
to  be  borne,  for  we  have  been  taught  to  believe  that  Damascus  is 
a  Paradise  on  earth,  and  that  here,  if  anywhere,  we  should  come 
into  that  region  of  enchantment  which  the  poets  of  the  Ai'abian 
Nights'  tales  have  imposed  upon  us  as  the  actual  Orient.  Should 
Ave  have  recognized,  in  the  low  and  partially  flooded  strip  of  grass- 
land through  which  we  drove  from  the  mouth  of  the  Abana  gorge 
to  the  western  gate  of  the  city,  the  green  Merj  of  the  Arabian 
poets,  that  gem  of  the  earth  ?  The  fame  of  it  has  gone  abroad 
throughout  the  world,  as  if  it  were  a  unique  gift  of  Allah  to  his 
favorites.  Why,  every  Occidental  land  has  a  million  glades,  wa- 
tered, green-sodded,  tree-embowered,  more  lovely  than  this,  that 
no  poet  has  thought  it  worth  while  to  celebrate. 

We  found  a  little  handful  of  worshippers  at  the  mission  church, 
and  among  them  —  Heaven  forgive  us  for  looking  at  her  on 
Sunday  !  —  an  eccentric  and  somewhat  notorious  English  lady  of 
title,  who  shares  the  bed  and  board  of  an  Arab  sheykh  in  his 
harem  outside  the  walls.  It  makes  me  blush  for  the  attractive- 
ness of  my  own  country,  and  the  slighted  fascination  of  the  noble 
red  man  in  his  paint  and  shoddy  blanket,  when  I  see  a  lady,  sated 
with  the  tame  civilization  of  England,  throw  herself  into  the  arms 
of  one  of  these  coarse  bigamists  of  the  desert.  Has  he  no  repu- 
tation in  the  Mother  countiy,  our  noble,  chivalrous  Walk-Under- 
the-Ground  ? 

We  saw  something  of  the  missionaries  of  Damascus,  but  as  I 


THE  MISSIONARIES.  183 

was  not  of  the  established  religion  at  the  court  of  Washington  at 
the  time  of  ray  depart\ire  from  home,  and  had  no  commission  to 
report  to  the  government,  either  upon  the  condition  of  consulates 
or  of  religion  abroad,  I  am  not  prepared  to  remark  much  upon 
the  state  of  either  in  this  city.  I  should  say,  however,  that  not 
many  direct  converts  were  made  either  from  Moslemism  or  from 
other  Christian  beliefs,  but  that  incalculable  good  is  accomplished 
by  the  schools  which  the  missionaries  conduct.  The  influence 
of  these,  in  encouraging  a  disposition  to  read,  and  to  inquire  into 
the  truth  and  into  the  conditions  of  a  better  civilization,  is  not 
to  be  overestimated.  What  impressed  me  most,  however,  in  the 
fortune  of  these  able,  faithful  servants  of  the  propagandism  of 
Christian  civilization,  was  their  pathetic  isolation.  A  gentleman 
and  his  wife  of  this  mission  had  been  thirty  years  absent  from 
the  United  States.  The  friends  who  cheered  or  regretted  their 
departure,  who  cried  over  them,  and  prayed  over  them,  and  fol- 
lowed them  with  tender  messages,  had  passed  away,  or  become 
so  much  absorbed  in  the  ever-exciting  life  at  home  as  to  have 
almost  forgotten  those  who  had  gone  away  to  the  heathen  a 
generation  ago.  The  Mission  Board  that  personally  knew  them 
and  lovingly  cared  for  them  is  now  composed  of  strangers  to 
them.  They  were,  in  fact,  expatriated,  lost  sight  of.  And  yet 
they  had  gained  no  country  nor  any  sympathies  to  supply  the 
place  of  those  lost.  They  must  always  be,  to  a  great  degree, 
strangers  in  this  fiei'ce,  barbarous  city. 

We  wandered  down  through  the  Christian  quarter  of  the'  town : 
few  shops  are  here ;  we  were  most  of  the  time  walking  between 
mud-walls,  which  have  a  door  now  and  then.  This  quarter  is 
new;  it  was  entirely  burned  by  the  Moslems  and  Druses  in  1860, 
when  no  less  than  twenty-five  hundred  adult  male  Christians, 
heads  of  families,  were  slaughtered,  and  thousands  more  perished 
of  wounds  and  famine  consequent  upon  the  total  destruction  of 
their  property.  That  the  Druses  were  incited  to  this  persecution 
by  the  Turkish  rulers  is  generally  believed.  We  went  out  of  the 
city  by  the  eastern  gate,  called  Bab  Shurky,  which  name  profanely 
suggested  the  irrelevant  colored  image  of  Bob  Sharkey,  and  found 
ourselves  in  the  presence  of  huge  mounds  of  rubbish,  the  accumu- 


184  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

lations  of  refuse  carted  out  of  the  city  during  many  centuries, 
whicli  entirely  concealed  from  view  the  country  beyond.  We 
skirted  these  for  a  while,  with  the  crumbling  city  wall  on  the  left 
hand,  passed  through  the  hard,  gray,  desolate  Turkish  cemetery, 
and  came  at  length  into  what  might  be  called  country.  Not  that 
we  could  see  any  country,  however;  we  were  always  between  high 
mud-walls,  and  could  see  nothing  beyond  them,  except  the  sky, 
unless  we  stepped  through  an  open  door  into  a  garden. 

Into  one  of  these  gardens,  a  public  one,  and  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  in  the  rhapsodies  of  travellers  and  by  the  inventive 
poets,  we  finally  turned.  When  you  are  walking  for  pleasure  in 
your  native  land,  and  indulging  a  rural  feeling,  would  you  volun- 
tarily go  into  a  damp  swale,  and  sit  on  a  moist  sod  under  a  wil- 
low ?  This  garden  is  low,  considerably  lower  than  the  city,  which 
has  gradually  elevated  itself  on  its  own  decay,  and  is  cut  by  little 
canals  or  sluiceways  fed  by  the  Abana,  which  run  with  a  good 
current.  The  ground  is  well  covered  with  coarse  grass,  of  the 
vivid  green  that  one  finds  usually  in  low  ground,  and  is  liberally 
sprinkled  with  a  growth  of  willows  and  poplars.  In  this  garden 
of  the  Hesperides,  in  which  there  are  few  if  any  flowers,  and  no 
promise  of  fruit,  there  is  a  rough  wooden  shed,  rickety  and  de- 
caying, having,  if  I  remember  rightly,  a  balcony,  —  it  must  have 
a  balcony,  —  and  there  pipes,  poor  lemonade,  and  poorer  ice- 
cream are  served  to  customers.  An  Arab  band  of  four  persons, 
one  of  them  of  course  blind  of  an  eye,  seated  cross-legged  on  a 
sort  of  bedstead,  was  picking  and  thumping  a  monotonous, 
never-ending  tune  out  of  the  usual  instruments.  You  could  not 
deny  that  the  vivid  greenery,  and  the  gayly  apparelled  groups, 
sitting  about  under  the  trees  and  on  the  water's  edge,  made  a 
lively  scene.  In  another  garden,  farther  on  around  the  wall,  the 
shanty  of  entertainment  is  a  many-galleried  shaky  construction, 
or  a  series  of  platforms  and  ten-aces  of  wood,  overhanging  the 
swift  Abana.  In  the  daytime  it  is  but  a  shabby  sight ;  but  at 
night,  when  a  thousand  colored  globes  light  it  without  revealing 
its  poverty,  and  the  lights  dance  in  the  water,  and  hundreds  of 
turbaned,  gowned  narghileh -smokers  and  coffee-drinkers  lounge 
in  the  galleries,  or  gracefidly  take  their  ease  by  the  sparkling 


THE   OLDEST   OF   CITIES.  185 

current,  and  the  faint  thump  of  the  darabouka  is  heard,  and  some 
gesticulating  story-teller,  mounted  upon  a  bench,  is  reeling  off  to 
an  attentive  audience  an  interminable  Arabian  tale,  you  might 
fancy  that  the  romance  of  the  Orient  is  not  all  invented. 

Of  other  and  private  gardens  and  enclosures  we  had  glimpses, 
on  our  walk,  through  open  gates,  and  occasionally  over  the  walls  ; 
we  could  imagine  what  a  fragrance  and  color  would  greet  the 
senses  when  the  apricots  are  in  bloom,  and  the  oranges  and  lemons 
in  flower,  and  how  beautiful  the  view  might  be  if  the  ugly  walls 
did  not  conceal  it.  We  returned  by  the  saddlers'  bazaar,  and  by 
a  famous  plane-tree,  which  may  be  as  old  as  the  Moslem  religion ; 
its  gnarled  limbs  are  like  the  stems  of  ordinary  trees,  and  its 
trunk  is  forty  feet  around. 

The  remark  that  Damascus  is  without  monuments  of  its  past 
needs  qualification  ;  it  was  made  with  reference  to  its  existence 
before  the  Christian  era,  and  in  comparison  with  other  capitals  of 
antiquity.  Remains  may,  indeed,  be  met  in  its  exterior  walls,  and 
in  a  broken  column  here  and  there  built  into  a  modern  house,  of 
Roman  workmanship,  and  its  Great  Mosque  is  an  historical 
monument  of  great  interest,  if  not  of  the  highest  antiquity.  In 
its  structure  it  represents  three  religions  and  three  periods  of 
art ;  like  the  mosque  of  St.  Sophia  at  Constantinople,  it  was  for 
centuries  a  Christian  cathedral ;  like  the  Dome  of  the  Rock  at 
Jerusalem,  it  is  built  upon  a  spot  consecrated  by  the  most  ancient 
religious  rites.  Situated  in  the  midst  of  the  most  densely  peo- 
pled part  of  the  city,  and  pressed  on  all  sides  by  its  most  crowded 
bazaars,  occupying  a  quadrangle  nearly  five  hundred  feet  one 
way  by  over  three  hundred  the  other,  the  wanderer  among  the 
shops  is  constantly  coming  to  one  side  or  another  of  it,  and  get- 
ting glimpses  through  the  spacious  portals  of  the  colonnaded 
court  within.  Hemmed  in  as  it  is,  it  is  only  by  divdng  into 
many  alleys  and  pushing  one's  way  into  the  rear  of  dirty  shops 
and  climbing  upon  the  roofs  of  houses,  that  one  can  get  any  idea 
of  the  exterior  of  the  mosque.  It  is,  indeed,  only  from  an  emi- 
nence that  you  can  see  its  three  beautiful  minarets. 

It  does  not  appear  that  Chosroes,  the  Persian  who  encamped 
his  army  in  the  delicious  gardens  of  Damascus,  in  the  3'ear  614, 


186       .  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

when  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  and  the 
massacre  of  its  Christian  inhabitants,  disturbed  the  church  of 
John  the  Baptist  in  this  city.  But  twenty  years  later  it  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Saracens,  who  for  a  few  years  were  content  to 
share  it  with  the  Christian  worshippers.  It  is  said  that  when 
Khaled,  the  most  redoubtable  of  the  Friends  of  the  Prophet, 
whose  deeds  entitled  him  to  the  sobriquet  of  The  Sword  of  God, 
entered  this  old  church,  he  asked  to  be  conducted  into  the  sacred 
vault  (which  is  now  beneath  the  kuhbeh  of  the  mosque),  and  that 
he  was  there  shown  the  head  of  John  the  Baptist  in  a  gold  casket, 
which  had  in  Greek  this  inscription  :  "  This  casket  contains  the 
head  of  John  the  Baptist,  son  of  Zachariah." 

The  building  had  been  then  for  over  three  centuries  a  Christian 
church.  And  already,  when  Constantino  dedicated  it  to  Christian 
use,  it  had  for  over  three  hundred  years  Tvitnessed  the  worship  of 
pagan  deities.  The  present  edifice  is  much  shorn  of  its  original 
splendor  and  proportions,  but  sufficient  remains  to  show  that  it 
was  a  worthy  rival  of  the  temples  of  Ba'albek,  Palmyra,  and  Jeru- 
salem. No  part  of  the  building  is  older  than  the  Eoman  occu- 
pation, but  the  antiquarians  are  agreed  to  think  that  this  was  the 
site  of  the  old  Syrian  temple,  in  which  Ahaz  saw  the  beautiful 
altar  which  he  reproduced  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem. 

Pieces  of  superb  carving,  recalling  the  temple  of  the  Sun  at 
Ba'albek,  may  still  be  found  in  some  of  the  gateways,  and  the 
noble  Corinthian  columns  of  the  interior  are  to  be  referred  to 
Roman  or  Greek  workmen.  Christian  art  is  represented  in  the 
building  in  some  part  of  the  walls  and  in  the  round-topped  win- 
dows ;  and  the  Moslems  have  superimposed  upon  all  minarets,  a 
dome,  and  the  gay  decorations  of  colored  marbles  and  flaring  in- 
scriptions. 

The  Moslems  have  either  been  too  ignorant  or  too  careless  to 
efface  all  the  evidences  of  Christian  occupation.  The  doors  of  the 
eastern  gate  are  embossed  with  brass,  and  among  the  emblems  is 
the  Christian  sacramental  cup.  Over  an  arch,  which  can  only  be 
seen  from  the  roof  of  the  silversmiths'  bazaar,  is  this  inscription 
in  Greek :  "  Thy  kingdom,  0  Christ,  is  an  everlasting  kingdom, 
and  thy  dominion  endureth  throughout  all  generations." 


THE  ANCIENT  MOSQUE.  187 

It  required  a  special  permit  to  admit  us  to  the  mosque,  but 
when  we  were  within  the  sacred  precincts  and  shod  with  slippers, 
lest  our  infidel  shoes  should  touch  tlie  pavement,  we  were  followed 
by  a  crowd  of  attendants  who  for  the  moment  overcame  their  re- 
pugnance to  our  faith  in  expectation  of  our  backsheesh.  The 
interior  view  is  impressive  by  reason  of  the  elegant  minarets  and 
the  fine  colonnaded  open  court.  Upon  one  of  the  minarets  Jesus 
will  descend  when  he  comes  to  judge  the  world.  The  spacious 
mosque,  occupying  one  side  of  the  court,  and  open  on  that  side 
to  its  roof,  is  divided  in  its  length  by  two  rows  of  Corinthian 
columns,  and  has  a  certain  cheerfulness  and  hospitality.  The 
tesselated  marble  pavement  of  the  interior  is  much  worn,  and  is 
nearly  all  covered  with  carpets  of  Persia  and  of  Smyrna.  The 
only  tomb  in  the  mosque  is  that  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  which  is 
draped  in  a  richly  embroidered  cloth. 

We  were  anew  impressed  by  the  home-like,  democratic  char- 
acter of  the  great  mosques.  This,  opening  by  its  four  gates  into 
the  busiest  bazaars,  as  we  said,  is  much  frequented  at  all  hours. 
At  the  seasons  of  prayer  you  may  see  great  numbers  prostrating 
themselves  in  devotion,  and  at  all  other  times  this  cool  retreat  is  a 
refuge  for  the  poor  and  the  weary.  The  fountains  of  running  water 
in  the  court  attract  people,  —  those  who  desire  only  to  sit  there 
and  rest,  as  well  as  those  who  wash  and  pray.  About  the  fountains 
and  in  the  mosque  were  seated  gi'oups  of  women,  eating  their 
noonday  bread,  or  resting  in  that  dumb  attitude  under  which 
Eastern  women  disguise  their  discontent  or  their  intrigues.  This 
is,  at  any  rate,  a  haven  of  rest  for  all,  and  it  is  a  goodly  sight  to 
see  all  classes,  rich  and  poor,  flocking  in  here,  leaving  their  shoes 
at  the  door  or  carrying  them  in  their  hands. 

The  view  from  the  minaret  which  we  ascended  is  peculiar.  On 
the  horizon  we  saw  the  tops  of  hills  and  mountains,  snowy  Her- 
mon  among  them.  Far  over  the  plain  we  could  not  look,  for  the 
city  is  beset  by  a  thicket  of  slender  trees,  which  were  just  then 
in  fresh  leafage.  Withdrawing  our  gaze  from  the  environs,  we 
looked  down  upon  the  wide-spread  oval-shaped  city.  Most  con- 
spicuous were  the  minarets,  then  a  few  domes,  and  then  thousands 
of  dome-shaped  roofs.     You  see  the  top  of  a  covered  city,  but  not 


188  IN   THE  LEVANT. 

the  city.  In  fact,  it  scarcely  looks  like  a  city ;  you  see  no  streets, 
and  few  roofs  proper,  for  we  have  to  look  twice  to  convince  our- 
selves that  the  flat  spaces  covered  with  earth  and  often  green  with 
vegetation  (gardens  in  the  air)  are  actually  roofs  of  houses.  The 
streets  are  either  roofed  over  or  are  so  narrow  that  we  cannot  see 
them  from  this  height.     Damascus  is  a  sort  of  rabbit-burrow. 

Not  far  from  the  Great  Mosque  is  the  tomb  of  Saladin.  We 
looked  from  the  street  through  a  grated  window,  to  the  bars  of 
which  the  faithful  have  tied  innumerable  rags  and  strings  (pious 
offerings,  which  it  is  supposed  will  bring  them  good  luck)  into  a 
painted  enclosure,  and  saw  a  large  catafalque,  or  sarcophagus,  cov- 
ered with  a  green  mantle.  The  tomb  is  near  a  mosque,  and  be- 
side a  busy  cotton-bazaar ;  it  is  in  the  midst  of  traffic  and  travel, 
among  activities  and  the  full  rush  of  life,  —  just  where  a  man 
would  like  to  be  buried  in  order  to  be  kept  in  remembrance. 

In  going  about  the  streets  we  notice  the  prevalence  of  color  in 
portals,  in  the  interior  courts  of  houses,  and  in  the  baths  ;  there  is  a 
fondness  for  decorating  mth  broad  gay  stripes  of  red,  yellow,  and 
white.  Even  the  white  pet  sheep  which  are  led  about  by  children 
have  their  wool  stained  with  dabs  of  brilliant  color,  —  perhaps  in 
honor  of  the  Greek  Easter. 

The  baths  of  Damascus  are  many  and  very  good,  not  so  severe 
and  violent  as  those  of  New  York,  nor  so  thorough  as  those  of 
Cairo,  but,  the  best  of  them,  clean  and  agreeable.  We  push  aside 
a  gay  curtain  from  the  street  and  descend  by  steps  into  a  square 
apartment.  It  has  a  dome  like  a  mosque.  Under  the  dome  is 
a  large  marble  basin  into  which  water  is  running ;  the  floor  is 
tesselated  with  colored  marbles.  Each  side  is  a  recess  with  a  half- 
dome,  and  in  the  recesses  are  elevated  divans  piled  with  cushions 
for  reclining.  The  walls  are  painted  in  stripes  of  blue,  yellow, 
and  red,  and  the  room  is  bright  with  various  Oriental  stuff's.  There 
are  turbaned  and  silken-attired  attendants,  wliose  gentle  faces  might 
make  them  mistaken  for  ministers  of  religion  as  well  as  of  clean- 
liness, and  upon  the  divans  recline  those  who  have  come  from  the 
bath,  enjoying  kief,  with  pipes  and  coffee.  There  is  an  atmos- 
phere of  perfect  contentment  in  the  place,  and  I  can  imagine  how 
an  effeminate  ruler  might  see,  almost  without  a  sigh,  the  empire 


THE   BATH.  189 

of  the  world  slip  from  his  grasp  while  he  surrendered  himself  to 
this  delicious  influence. 

We  undressed,  were  towelled,  shod  with  wooden  clogs,  and  led 
through  marble  paved  passages  and  several  rooms  into  an  inner, 
long  chamber,  which  has  a  domed  roof  pierced  by  bulls'-eyes  of 
party-colored  glass.  The  floor,  of  colored  marbles,  was  slippery 
with  water  running  from  the  overflowing  fountains,  or  dashed 
about  by  the  attendants.  Out  of  this  room  open  several  smaller 
chambers,  into  which  an  unsocial  person  might  retire.  We  sat 
down  on  the  floor  by  a  marble  basin  into  which  both  hot  and 
cold  water  poured.  After  a  little  time  spent  in  contemplating  the 
humidity  of  the  world,  and  reflecting  on  the  equality  of  all  men 
before  the  law  without  clothes,  an  attendant  approached,  and  be- 
gan to  deluge  us  with  buckets  of  hot  water,  dashing  them  over  us 
with  a  jocular  enjoyment  and  as  much  indiff'erence  to  our  per- 
sonality as  if  we  had  been  statues.  I  should  like  to  know  how 
life  looks  to  a  man  who  passes  his  days  in  this  dimly  illumined 
chamber  of  steam,  and  is  permitted  to  treat  his  fellow-men  with 
every  mark  of  disrespect.  When  we  were  sufficiently  drenched, 
the  agile  Arab  who  had  selected  me  as  his  mine  of  backslieesh, 
knelt  down  and  began  to  scrub  me  with  hair  mittens,  with  a  great 
show  of  energy,  uttering  jocose  exclamations  in  his  own  language, 
and  practising  the  half-dozen  English  words  he  had  mastered, 
one  of  them  being  "  dam,"  which  he  addressed  to  me  both  affirm- 
atively and  interrogatively,  as  if  under  the  impression  that  it  con- 
veyed the  same  meaning  as  tyeb  in  his  vocabulary.  I  suppose  he 
had  often  heard  wicked  Englishmen,  who  were  under  his  hands, 
use  it,  and  he  took  it  for  an  expression  of  profound  satisfaction. 
He  continued  this  operation  for  some  time,  putting  me  in  a  sit- 
ting position,  turning  me  over,  telling  me  to  "  sleep  "  when  he 
desired  me  to  lie  down,  encouraging  nie  by  vai'ious  barbarous 
cries,  and  slapping  his  hand  from  time  to  time  to  make  up  by 
noise  for  his  economical  expenditure  of  muscular  force. 

After  my  hilarious  bather  had  finished  this  process,  he  lathered 
me  thoroughly,  drenched  me  from  head  to  heels  in  suds,  and  then 
let  me  put  the  crowning  touch  to  ray  happiness  by  entering  one 
of  the  little  rooms,  and  sliding  into  a  tank  of  water  hot  enough 


190  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

to  take  the  skin  off.  It  is  easy  enough  to  make  all  this  process 
read  like  a  martyrdom,  but  it  is,  on  the  contraiy,  so  delightful  that 
you  do  not  wonder  that  the  ancients  spent  so  much  time  in  the 
bath,  and  that  next  to  the  amphitheatre  the  emperors  and  tyrants 
lavished  most  money  upon  these  establishments,  of  which  the 
people  were  so  extravagantly  fond. 

Fresh  towels  were  wound  round  us,  turbans  were  put  on  our 
heads,  and  we  were  led  back  to  the  room  first  entered,  where  we 
were  re-enveloped  in  cloths  and  towels,  and  left  to  recline  upon 
the  cushioned  divans;  pipes  and  coffee  were  brought,  and  we 
enjoyed  a  delicious  sense  of  repose  and  bodily  lightness,  looking 
dimly  at  the  grave  figures  about  us,  and  recognizing  in  them  not 
men  but  dreamy  images  of  a  physical  paradise.  No  mde  voices 
or  sharp  movements  broke  the  repose  of  the  chamber.  It  was  as 
in  a  dream  that  I  watched  a  handsome  boy,  who,  wdth  a  long 
pole,  was  handling  the  washed  towels,  and  admired  the  unerring 
skill  that  tossed  the  strips  of  cloth  high  in  the  air  and  caused 
them  to  catch  and  hang  squarely  upon  the  cords  stretched  across 
the  recesses.  The  mind  was  equal  to  the  obsei-vation,  but  not  to 
the  comprehension,  of  this  feat.  When  we  were  sufficiently  cooled, 
we  were  assisted  to  dress,  the  various  articles  of  Frank  apparel 
affording  great  amusement  to  the  Orientals.  The  charge  for  the 
whole  entertainment  was  two  francs  each,  probably  about  four 
times  what  a  native  would  have  paid. 


I 


XIV. 

OTHER   SIGHTS   IN  DAMASCUS. 

DAY  after  day  we  continued,  like  the  mourners,  to  go  about 
the  streets,  in  the  tangle  of  the  bazaars,  under  the  dark  roofs, 
endeavoring  to  see  Damascus.  When  we  emerged  from  the  city 
gate,  the  view  was  not  much  less  limited.  I  made  the  circuit  of 
the  Avail  on  the  north,  in  lanes,  by  running  streams,  canals,  en- 
closed gardens,  seeing  everywhere  hundreds  of  patient,  summer- 
loving  men  and  women  squatting  on  the  brink  of  every  rivulet, 
by  every  damp  spot,  in  idle  and  perfect  repose. 

We  stumbled  about  also  on  the  south  side  of  the  to  mi,  and 
saw  the  reputed  place  of  St.  Paul's  escape,  which  has  been  lately 
changed.  It  is  a  ruined  Saracenic  tower  in  the  wall,  under  which 
is  Bab  Kisan,  a  gate  that  has  been  walled  up  for  seven  hundred 
years.  The  window  does  not  any  more  exist  from  which  the 
apostle  was  let  down  in  a  basket,  but  it  used  to  be  pointed  out 
with  confidence,  and  I  am  told  that  the  basket  is  stiU  shown,  but 
we  did  not  see  it.  There  are  still  some  houses  on  this  south 
wall,  and  a  few  of  them  have  projecting  windows  from  which  a 
person  might  easily  be  lowered.  It  was  in  such  a  house  that  the 
harlot  of  Jericho  lived,  who  contrived  the  escape  of  the  spies  of 
Joshua.  And  we  see  how  thick  and  substantial  the  town  walls 
of  that  city  must  have  been  to  support  human  habitations.  But 
they  were  blown  down. 

Turning  southward  into  the  countiy,  we  came  to  the  tomb  of 
the  porter  who  assisted  Paul's  escape,  and  who  now  sleeps  here 
under  the  weight  of  the  sobriquet  of  St.  George.  A  little  far- 
ther out  on  the  same  road  is  located  the  spot  of  Saul's  conversion. 


192  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

Near  it  is  the  English  cemetery,  a  small  high-walled  enclosure, 
containing  a  domed  building  surmounted  by  a  cross ;  and  in  this 
historical  spot,  whose  mutations  of  race,  religion,  and  government 
would  forbid  the  most  superficial  to  construct  for  it  any  cast-iron 
scheme  of  growtli  or  decay,  amid  these  almost  melancholy  patches 
of  vegetation  which  still  hover  in  the  Oriental  imagination  as  the 
gardens  of  all  delights,  sleeps  undisturbed  by  ambition  or  by  criti- 
cism, having  at  last,  let  us  hope,  solved  the  theory  of  "  averages," 
the  brilliant  Henry  T.  Buckle. 

Not  far  off  is  the  Christian  cemetery.  "  Who  is  buried  here  ?  " 
I  asked  our  thick-witted  guide. 

"  0,  anybody,"  he  replied,  cheerfully,  "  Greeks,  French,  Ital- 
ians, anybody  you  like" ;  as  if  T  could  please  myself  by  interring 
here  any  one  I  chose. 

Among  the  graves  was  a  group  of  women,  hair  dishevelled  and 
garments  loosened  in  the  abandon  of  mourning,  seated  about  a 
rough  coffin  open  its  entire  length.  In  it  lay  the  body  of  a  young 
man  Avho  had  been  drowned,  and  recovered  from  the  water  after 
three  days.  The  women  lifted  up  his  dead  hands,  let  them  drop 
heavily,  and  then  wailed  and  howled,  throwing  themselves  into 
attitudes  of  the  most  passionate  grief.  It  was  a  piteous  sight, 
there  under  the  open  sky,  in  the  presence  of  an  unsympathizing 
crowd  of  spectators. 

Returning,  we  went  round  by  the  large  Moslem  cemetery,  situ- 
ated at  the  southwest  corner  of  the  city.  It  is,  like  all  Moslem 
buiyiiig-grounds,  a  melancholy  spectacle,  —  a  mass  of  small 
whitewashed  mounds  of  mud  or  brick,  with  an  inscribed  head- 
stone, —  but  here  rest  some  of  the  most  famous  men  and  women 
of  Moslem  history.  Here  is  the  grave  of  Ibn'  Asakcr,  the  histo- 
rian of  Damascus  ;  here  rests  the  fierce  Moa^v^'^eh,  the  founder  of 
the  dynasty  of  the  Omeiyades ;  and  here  are  buried  tliree  of  the 
wives  of  Mohammed,  and  Fatimeh,  his  granddaughter,  the  child 
of  Ali,  whose  place  of  sepulture  no  man  knows.  Upon  nearly 
every  tomb  is  a  hollow  for  water,  and  in  it  is  a  sprig  of  myrtle, 
which  is  renewed  every  Friday  by  the  women  avIio  come  here  to 
mourn  and  to  gossip. 

Much  of  the  traveller's  time,  and  perhaps  the  most  enjoyable 


THE   BAZAARS.  193 

part  of  it,  in  Damascus,  is  spent  in  the  bazaars,  cheapening  scarfs 
and  rugs  and  the  various  silken  products  of  Syrian  and  Persian 
looms,  picking  over  dishes  of  antique  coins,  taking  impressions 
of  intaglios,  hunting  for  curious  amulets,  and  searching  for  the 
quaintest  and  most  brilliant  Saracenic  tiles.  The  quest  of  the  an- 
tique is  always  exciting,  and  the  inexperienced  is  ever  hopeful 
that  he  will  find  a  gem  of  value  in  a  heap  of  rubbish ;  this  hope 
never  abandons  the  most  blase  tourist,  though  in  time  he  comes 
to  understand  that  the  sharp-nosed  Jew,  or  the  oily  Armenian,  or 
the  respectable  Turk,  who  spreads  his  delusive  wares  before  him, 
knows  quite  as  well  as  the  seeker  the  value  of  any  bit  of  antiquity, 
not  only  in  Damascus,  but  in  Constantinople,  Paris,  and  London, 
and  is  an  adept  in  all  the  counterfeits  and  impositions  of  the 
Orient. 

The  bazaars  of  the  antique,  of  old  armor,  ancient  brasses,  and  of 
curiosities  generally,  and  even  of  the  silver  and  gold  smiths,  are 
disappointing  after  Cairo  ;  they  are  generally  full  of  rubbish  from 
which  the  choice  things  seem  to  have  been  cidled  ;  indeed,  the 
rage  for  antiquities  is  now  so  great  that  sharp  buyers  from  Enrope 
range  all  the  Orient  and  leave  little  for  the  innocent  and  hopeful 
tourist,  who  is  aghast  at  the  prices  demanded,  and  usually  finds 
himself  a  victim  of  his  own  cleverness  when  he  pays  for  any  arti- 
cle only  a  fourth  of  the  price  at  first  asked. 

The  silk  bazaars  of  Damascus  still  preseiTC,  however,  a  sort  of 
pre-eminence  of  opportunity,  although  they  are  largely  supplied 
by  the  fabrics  manufactured  at  Bey  rout  and  in  other  Syrian  towns. 
Certainly  no  place  is  more  tempting  than  one  of  the  silk  khans,  — 
gloomy  old  courts,  in  the  galleries  of  which  you  find  little  apart- 
ments stuffed  full  of  the  seductions  of  Eastern  looms.  For  myself, 
I  confess  to  the  fascination  of  those  stuffs  of  brilliant  dyes,  shot 
with  threads  of  gold  and  of  silver.  I  know  a  tall,  oily-tongued 
Armenian,  who  has  a  little  chamber  fnll  of  shelves,  from  which  he 
takes  down  one  rich  scarf  after  another,  unfolds  it,  shakes  out  its 
shining  hues,  and  throws  it  on  the  heap,  until  the  room  is  littered 
with  gorgeous  stuffs.  He  himself  is  clad  in  silk  attire,  he  is  tall, 
suave,  insinuating,  grave,  and  overwhelmingly  condescending.  I 
can  see  him  now,  when  I  question  the  value  put  upon  a  certain 

9  M 


194  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

article  which  I  hold  in  my  hand  and  no  doubt  betray  my  admira- 
tion of  in  my  eyes,  —  I  can  see  him  now  throw  back  his  head,  half 
close  his  Eastern  eyes,  and  exclaim,  as  if  he  had  hot  pudding  in 
his  mouth,  "  Thot  is  ther  larster  price." 

I  can  see  Abd-el-Atti  now,  Avhen  we  had  made  up  a  package 
of  scarfs,  and  offered  a  certain  sum  for  the  lot,  which  the  sleek  and 
polite  trader  refused,  with  his  eternal,  "  Thot  is  ther  larster  price," 
sling  the  articles  about  the  room,  and  depart  in  rage.  And  I 
can  see  the  Armenian  bow  us  into  the  corridor  with  the  same 
sweet  courtesy,  knowing  very  well  that  the  trade  is  only  just 
begun  ;  that  it  is,  in  fact,  under  good  headway  ;  that  the  Arab  will 
return,  that  he  will  yield  a  little  from  the  "larster  price,"  and 
that  we  shall  go  away  loaded  with  his  wares,  leaving  him  ruined 
by  the  transaction,  but  proud  to  be  our  friend. 

Our  experience  in  purchasing  old  Saracenic  and  Persian  tiles 
is  perhaps  worth  relating  as  an  illustration  of  the  character  of  the 
traders  of  Damascus.  Tiles  were  plenty  enough,  for  several 
ancient  houses  had  recently  been  torn  down,  and  the  dealers  con- 
tinually acquire  them  from  ruined  mosques  or  those  that  are 
undergoing  repairs.  The  dragoman  found  several  lots  in  private 
houses,  and  made  a  bargain  for  a  certain  number  at  two  francs 
and  a  half  each ;  and  Avhen  the  bargain  was  made,  I  spent  half 
a  day  in  selecting  the  specimens  we  desired. 

The  next  morning,  before  breakfast,  we  went  to  make  sure  that 
the  lots  we  had  bought  would  be  at  once  packed  and  shipped. 
But  a  change  had  taken  place  in  twelve  hours.  There  was  an 
Englishman  in  town  who  was  also  buying  tiles ;  this  produced 
a  fever  in  the  market ;  an  impression  went  abroad  that  there  was 
a  fortune  to  be  made  in  tiles,  and  we  found  that  our  bargain  was 
entirely  ignored.  The  owners  supposed  that  the  tiles  we  had 
selected  must  have  some  special  value ;  and  they  demanded  for 
the  thirty-eight  which  we  had  chosen  —  agreeing  to  pay  for  them 
two  francs  and  a  half  apiece  —  thirty  pounds.  In  the  house  where 
we  had  laid  aside  seventy-three  others  at  the  same  price,  not  a 
tile  was  to  be  discovered;  the  old  woman  who  showed  us  the 
vacant  chamber  said  she  knew  not  what  had  become  of  them,  but 
she  believed  they  had  been  sold  to  an  Englishmau. 


TRAFFIC   IN  TILES.  195 

We  returned  to  the  house  first  mentioned,  resolved  to  devote 
the  day  if  necessary  to  the  extraction  of  the  desired  tiles 
from  the  grip  of  their  owners.  The  contest  began  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning;  it  was  not  finished  till  three  in  the 
afternoon,  and  it  was  maintained  on  our  side  with  some  disad- 
vantage, the  only  nutriment  that  sustained  us  being  a  cup  of  tea 
which  we  drank  very  early  in  the  morning.  The  scene  of  the 
bargain  was  the  paved  court  of  the  house,  in  which  there  was  a 
fountain  and  a  lemon-tree,  and  some  rose-trees  trained  on  espaliers 
along  the  walls.  The  tempting  enamelled  tiles  were  piled  up  at 
one  side  of  the  court  and  spread  out  in  rows  in  the  leicdn,  —  the 
open  recess  where  guests  are  usually  received.  The  owners  were 
two  Greeks,  brothers-in-law,  polite,  cunning,  sharp,  the  one  in- 
flexible, the  other  yielding,  —  a  combination  against  which  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  trade  with  safety,  for  the  yielding  one  con- 
stantly allures  you  into  the  grip  of  the  inflexible.  The  women 
of  the  establishment,  comely  Greeks,  clattered  about  the  court 
on  their  high  wooden  pattens  for  a  time,  and  at  lengtli  settled 
down,  in  an  adjoining  apartment,  to  their  regular  work  of  em- 
broidering silken  piirses  and  tobacco-pouches,  taking  time,  how- 
ever, for  an  occasional  cigarette  or  a  pull  at  a  narghileh,  and,  in 
a  constant  chatter,  keeping  a  lively  eye  upon  the  trade  going  on 
in  the  court.  The  handsome  children  added  not  a  little  to  the 
liveliness  of  the  scene,  and  their  pranks  served  to  soften  the 
asperities  of  the  encounter ;  although  I  could  not  discover,  after 
repeated  experiments,  that  any  affection  lavished  upon  the  children 
lowered  the  price  of  the  tiles.  The  Greek  does  not  let  sentiment 
interfere  with  business,  and  he  is  much  more  difficult  to  deal 
with  than  an  Arab,  who  occasionally  has  impulses. 

Each  tile  was  the  subject  of  a  separate  bargain  and  conflict. 
The  dicker  went  on  in  Arabic,  Greek,  broken  English,  and  dis- 
located French,  and  was  participated  in  not  only  by  the  parties  most 
concerned,  but  by  the  young  Greek  guide  and  by  the  donkey -boys. 
Abd-el-Atti  exhibited  all  the  qualities  of  his  generalship.  He 
was  humorous,  engaging,  astonished,  indignant,  serious,  playful, 
threatening,  indifferent.  Beaten  on  one  grouping  of  specimens, 
he  made  instantly  a  new  combination ;  more  than  once  the  trans- 


196  IN   THE  LEVANT. 

action  was  abruptly  broken  off  in  mutual  rage,  obstinacy,  and 
recriminations ;  and  it  was  set  going  again  by  a  timely  jocularity 
or  a  seeming  concession.  I  can  see  now  the  soft  Greek  take  up 
a  tile  which  had  painted  on  it  some  quaint  figure  or  some  lovely 
flower,  dip  it  in  the  fountain  to  bring  out  its  brilliant  color,  and 
then  put  it  in  the  sun  for  our  admiration;  and  I  can  see  the 
dragoman  shake  his  head  in  slow  depi'eciation,  and  push  it  one 
side,  when  that  tile  was  the  one  we  had  resolved  to  possess  of 
all  others,  and  was  the  undeclared  centre  of  contest  in  all  the 
combinations  for  an  hour  thereafter. 

When  the  day  was  two  thirds  spent  we  had  purchased  one  hun- 
dred tiles,  jealously  watched  the  packing  of  each  one,  and  seen 
the  boxes  nailed  and  corded.  We  could  not  have  been  more 
exhausted  if  wc  had  undergone  an  examination  for  a  doctorate  of 
law  in  a  German  university.  Two  boxes,  weighing  two  hundred 
pounds  each,  were  hoisted  upon  the  backs  of  mules  and  sent  to 
the  French  company's  station ;  there  does  not  appear  to  be  a  dray 
or  a  burden-cart  in  Damascus  ;  all  freight  is  carried  upon  the  back 
of  a  mule  or  a  horse,  even  long  logs  and  whole  trunks  of  trees. 

When  this  transaction  was  finished,  our  Greek  guide,  who  had 
heard  me  ask  the  master  of  the  house  for  brass  trays,  told  me 
that  a  fellow  whom  I  had  noticed  hanging  about  there  all  the 
morning  had  some  trays  to  show  me ;  in  fact,  he  had  at  his  house 
"  seventeen  trays."  I  thought  this  a  rich  find,  for  the  beautiful 
antique  brasses  of  Persia  are  becoming  rare  even  in  Damascus ; 
and,  tired  as  we  were,  we  rode  across  the  city  for  a  mile  to  a  se- 
cluded private  house,  and  were  shown  into  an  upper  chamber. 
What  was  our  surprise  to  find  spread  out  there  the  same  "  seventy- 
three  "  tiles  that  we  had  purchased  the  day  before,  and  which  had 
been  whisked  away  from  us.  By  "  seventeen  tray,"  the  guide 
meant  "  seventy-three."  We  told  the  honest  owner  that  he  was 
too  late ;  we  had  already  tiles  enough  to  cover  his  tomb. 


XV. 


SOME  PRIVATE   HOUSES. 

THE  private  houses  of  Damascus  are  a  theme  of  wonder  and 
admiration  throughout  the  Orient.  In  a  land  in  which  a 
moist  spot  is  caUed  a  garden,  and  a  canal  bordered  by  willows 
a  Paradise,  the  fancy  constructs  a  palace  of  the  utmost  splendor 
and  luxury  out  of  materials  whieh  in  a  less  glowing  country  would 
scarcely  satisfy  moderate  notions  of  comfort  or  of  ostentation. 

But  the  East  is  a  region  of  contrasts  as  well  as  of  luxury,  and 
it  is  difficult  to  say  how  much  of  their  reputation  the  celebrated 
mansions  of  Damascus  owe  to  the  wretchedness  of  the  ordinary 
dwellings,  and  also  to  the  raggedness  of  their  surroundings.  We 
spent  a  day  in  visiting  several  of  the  richest  dwellings,  and  steep- 
ing ourselves  in  the  dazzling  luxury  they  offer. 

The  exterior  of  a  private  house  gives  no  idea  of  its  interior. 
Sometimes  its  plain  mud-wall  has  a  solid  handsome  street-door, 
and  if  it  is  very  old,  perhaps  a  rich  Saracenic  portal ;  but  usually 
you  slip  from  the  gutter,  lined  with  mud-walls,  called  a  street, 
into  an  alley,  crooked,  probably  dirty,  pass  through  a  stable-yard 
and  enter  a  small  court,  which  may  be  cheered  by  a  tree  and  a 
basin  of  water.  Thence  you  wind  through  a  narrow  passage 
into  a  large  court,  a  parallelogram  of  tesselated  marble,  having  a 
fountain  in  the  centre  and  about  it  orange  and  lemon  trees,  and 
roses  and  vines.  The  house,  two  stories  high,  is  built  about  this 
court,  upon  which  all  the  rooms  open  without  communicating 
with  each  other.  Perhaps  the  building  is  of  marble,  and  carved, 
or  it  may  be  highly  ornamented  with  stucco,  and  painted  in  gay 
colors.     If  the  establishment  belongs  to  a  Moslem,  it  will  have 


198  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

beyond  this  court  a  second,  larger  and  finer,  with  more  fountains, 
trees,  and  flowers,  and  a  house  more  highly  decorated.  This  is 
the  harem,  and  the  way  to  it  is  a  crooked  alley,  so  that  by  no 
chance  can  the  slaves  or  visitors  of  the  master  get  a  glimpse  into 
the  apartments  of  the  women.  The  first  liouse  we  visited  was  of 
this  kind ;  all  the  portion  the  gentlemen  of  the  party  were  ad- 
mitted into  was  in  a  state  of  shabby  decay ;  its  court  in  disrepair, 
its  rooms  void  of  comfort,  —  a  condition  of  things  to  which  we 
had  become  well  accustomed  in  everything  Moslem.  But  the  ladies 
found  the  court  of  the  harem  beautiful,  and  its  apartments  old 
and  very  rich  in  wood-carving  and  in  arabesques,  something  like 
the  best  old  Saracenic  houses  in  Cairo. 

The  houses  of  the  rich  Jews  which  we  saw  are  built  like  those 
of  the  Moslems,  about  a  paved  court  with  a  fountain,  but  totally 
different  in  architecture  and  decoration. 

In  speaking  of  a  fountain,  in  or  about  Damascus,  I  always 
mean  a  basin  into  which  water  is  discharged  from  a  spout.  If 
there  are  any  jets  or  upspringing  fountains,  I  was  not  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  see  them. 

In  passing  through  the  streets  of  the  Jews'  quarter  we  en- 
countered at  every  step  beautiful  children,  not  always  clean  Sun- 
day-school children,  but  ravishingly  lovely,  the  handsomest,  as  to 
exquisite  complexions,  grace  of  features,  and  beauty  of  eyes,  that 
I  have  ever  seen.  And  looking  out  from  the  open  windows  of 
the  balconies  which  hang  over  the  street  were  lovely  Jewish 
women,  the  mothers  of  the  beautiful  children,  and  the  maidens  to 
whom  the  humble  Christian  is  grateful  that  they  tire  themselves 
and  look  out  of  windows  now  as  they  did  in  the  days  of  the 
prophets. 

At  the  first  Jewish  house  we  entered,  we  were  received  by  the 
entire  family,  old  and  young,  newly  married,  betrothed,  cousins, 
uncles,  and  maiden  aunts. '  They  were  evidently  expecting  com- 
pany about  these  days,  and  not  at  all  averse  to  exhibiting  their 
gorgeous  house  and  their  rich  apparel.  Three  dumpy,  middle- 
aged  women,  who  would  pass  for  ugly  anywhere,  welcomed  us  at 
first  in  the  raised  recess,  or  lewan,  at  one  end  of  the  court ;  we 
were  seated  upon  the  divans,  while  the  women  squatted  upon 


A  JEWISH   FAMILY  AT   HOME.  199 

cushions.  Then  the  rest  of  the  family  began  to  appear.  There 
were  the  handsome  owner  of  the  house,  his  younger  brother  just 
man-ied,  and  the  wife  of  the  latter,  a  tall  and  pretty  woman  of 
the  strictly  wax-doll  order  of  beauty,  with  large,  swimming  eyes. 
She  wore  a  short-waisted  gown  of  blue  silk,  and  diamonds,  and, 
strange  to  say,  a  dark  Avig ;  it  is  the  fashion  at  marriage  to  shave 
the  head  and  put  on  a  Avig,  a  most  disenchanting  performance  for 
a  bride.  The  numerous  children,  veiy  pretty  and  sweet-man- 
nered, came  forward  and  kissed  our  hands.  The  little  girls  were 
attired  in  white  short-waisted  dresses,  and  all,  except  the  very 
smallest,  wore  diamonds.  One  was  a  bride  of  twelve  years,  whose 
marriage  was  to  be  concluded  the  next  year.  She  wore  an  orange- 
wreath,  her  high  corsage  of  white  silk  sparkled  with  diamonds, 
and  she  was  sweet  and  engaging  in  manner,  and  spoke  French 
prettily. 

The  girls  evidently  had  on  the  family  diamonds,  and  I  could 
imagine  that  the  bazaar  of  Moses  in  the  city  had  been  stripped  to 
make  a  holiday  for  his  daughters.  Surely,  we  never  saw  such  a 
display  out  of  the  Sultan's  treasure-chamber.  The  head-dress  of 
one  of  the  cousins  of  the  family,  who  Avas  recently  married,  Avas  a 
pretty  hat,  the  coronal  front  of  which  was  a  mass  of  diamonds. 
We  saw  this  same  style  of  dress  in  other  houses  afterwards,  and 
were  permitted  to  admire  other  young  women  who  were  literally 
plastered  with  these  precious  stones,  in  Avreaths  on  the  head,  in 
brooches  and  necklaces,  —  masses  of  dazzling  diamonds,  which 
after  a  time  came  to  have  no  more  value  in  our  eyes  than  glass, 
so  common  and  cheap  did  they  seem.  If  a  wicked  person  could 
persuade  one  of  these  dazzling  creatures  to  elope  with  him,  he 
would  be  in  possession  of  treasure  enough  to  found  a  college  for 
the  conversion  of  the  Jews.  I  could  not  but  be  struck  with  the 
resemblance  of  one  of  the  plump,  glowing-cheeked  young  girls, 
who  was  set  before  us  for  worship,  clad  in  white  silk  and  inesti- 
mable jewels,  to  the  images  of  tlie  Madonna,  decked  with  equal 
affection  and  lavish  wealth,  which  one  sees  in  the  Italian  churches. 

All  the  women  and  children  of  the  family  walked  about  upon 
wooden  pattens,  ingeniously  inlaid  with  ivory  or  pearl,  the  two 
supports  of  which  raise  them  about  three  inches  from  the  ground. 


200  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

They  are  confined  to  the  foot  by  a  strap  across  the  ball,  but  being 
otherwise  loose,  they  clatter  at  every  step ;  of  course,  graceful 
walking  on  these  little  stilts  is  impossible,  and  the  women  go 
about  like  hens  whose  toes  have  been  frozen  off.  When  they  step 
up  into  the  lewan,  they  leave  their  pattens  on  the  marble  floor, 
and  sit  in  their  stocking-feet.  Our  conversation  with  this  hos- 
pitable collection  of  relations  consisted  chiefly  in  inquiries  about 
their  cotmection  with  each  other,  and  an  eft'ort  on  their  part  to 
understand  our  relationship,  and  to  know  why  we  had  not  brought 
our  entire  families.  They  were  also  extremely  curious  to  know 
about  our  houses  in  America,  chiefly,  it  would  seem,  to  enforce  the 
contrast  between  our  plainness  and  their  luxury.  Wlien  we  had 
been  served  with  coffee  and  cigarettes,  they  all  rose  and  showed 
us  about  the  apartments. 

The  first  one,  the  salon,  will  give  an  idea  of  the  others.  It 
was  a  lofty,  but  not  large  room,  with  a  highly  painted  ceiling,  and 
consisted  of  two  parts ;  the  first,  level  with  the  court  and  paved 
with  marble,  had  a  marble  basin  in  the  centre  supported  on  carved 
lions ;  the  other  two  thirds  of  the  apartment  was  raised  about  a 
foot,  carpeted,  and  furnished  with  chairs  of  wood,  inlaid  with 
mother-of-pearl,  stiffly  set  against  the  walls.  The  chairs  were  not 
comfortable  to  sit  in,  and  they  were  the  sole  furniture.  The 
wainscoting  was  of  marble,  in  screen-work,  and  most  elaborately 
carved.  High  up,  near  the  ceiling,  were  windows,  double  win- 
dows in  fact,  with  a  space  between  like  a  gallery,  so  that  the  lace- 
like screen-work  was  exhibited  to  the  utmost  advantage.  There 
was  much  gilding  and  color  on  the  marble,  and  the  whole  was 
costly  and  gaudy.  The  sleeping-rooms,  in  the  second  story,  were 
also  handsome  in  this  style,  but  they  were  literally  all  windows, 
on  all  sides  ;  the  space  between  the  windows  was  never  more  than 
three  or  four  inches.  They  are  admirable  for  light  and  air,  but  to 
enter  them  is  almost  like  stepping  out  of  doors.  The}''  are  all 
en  suite,  so  that  it  would  seem  that  the  family  must  retire  simul- 
taneously, exchanging  the  comparative  privacy  of  the  isolated 
rooms  below  for  the  community  of  these  glass  apartments. 

The  salons  that  we  saw  in  other  houses  were  of  the  same  gen- 
eral style  of  the  first  j  some  had  marble  niches  in  the  walls,  the 


ORIENTAL   ART.  201 

arch  of  which  was  supported  by  slender  marble  columns,  and 
these  recesses,  as  well  as  the  walls,  were  decorated  with  painting, 
usually  landscapes  and  cities.  The  painting  gives  you  a  perfectly 
accurate  idea  of  the  condition  of  art  in  the  Orient ;  it  was  not 
only  pre-Eaphaelite,  it  was  pre-Adamite,  worse  than  Byzantine, 
and  not  so  good  as  Chinese.  Money  had  been  freely  lavished  in 
these  dwellings,  and  whatever  the  Eastern  chisel  or  brush  could 
do  to  enrich  and  ornament  them  had  been  done.  I  was  much 
pleased  by  the  picture  of  a  city,  —  it  may  have  been  Damascus, 

—  freely  done  upon  the  wall.  The  artist  had  dotted  the  plas- 
ter with  such  houses  as  children  are  accustomed  to  make  on  a 
slate,  arranging  some  of  them  in  rows,  and  inserting  here  and 
there  a  minaret  and  a  dome.  There  was  not  the  slightest  attempt 
at  shading  or  perspective.  Yet  the  owners  contemplated  the 
result  with  visible  satisfaction,  and  took  a  simple  and  undisguised 
pleasure  in  our  admiration  of  the  work  of  art. 

"  Alas,"  I  said  to  the  delighted  Jew  connoisseur  who  had  paid 
for  this  picture,  "  we  have  nothing  like  that  in  our  houses  in 
America,  not  even  in  the  Capitol  at  Washington  !  " 

"  But  your  country  is  new,"  he  replied  with  amiable  considera- 
tion; "you  will  have  of  it  one  day." 

In  none  of  these  veneered  and  stuccoed  palaces  did  we  find 
any  comfort ;  everywhere  a  profuse  expenditure  of  money  in  Ital- 
ian marble,  in  carving,  in  gliding,  and  glaring  color,  but  no  taste, 
except  in  some  of  the  wood-work,  cut   in  Arabesque,  and  inlaid, 

—  a  reminiscence  of  the  almost  extinct  Saracenic  grace  and  in- 
vention. And  the  construction  of  aU  the  buildings  and  the  orna- 
mentation were  shabby  and  cheap  in  appearance,  in  spite  of  the 
rich  materials ;  the  marbles  in  the  pavement  or  the  walls  were 
badly  joined  and  raggedly  cemented,  and  by  the  side  of  the  most 
costly  Avork  was  sure  to  be  something  mean  and  frail. 

We  supposed  at  first  that  we  ought  to  feel  a  little  delicacy  about 
intruding  our  bare-faced  curiosity  into  private  houses,  —  perhaps 
an  unpardonable  feeling  in  a  traveller  who  has  been  long  enough 
in  the  Orient  to  lose  the  bloom  of  Occidental  modesty.  But  we 
need  not  have  feared.  Our  hosts  were  only  too  glad  that  we 
should  see  their  state  and  luxury.  There  was  something  almost 
9* 


202  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

comical  in  these  Jewish  women  arraying  themselves  in  their  finest 
gowns,  and  loading  themselves  with  diamonds,  so  early  in  the 
day  (for  they  were  ready  to  receive  us  at  ten  o'clock),  and  in  their 
naive  enjoyment  of  our  admiration.  Surely  we  ought  not  to  have 
thought  that  comical  which  was  so  kindly  intended.  I  could  not 
but  wonder,  however,  what  resource  for  the  rest  of  the  day  could 
remain  to  a  woman  who  had  begun  it  by  di'essing  in  all  her  orna- 
ments, by  crowning  herself  with  coronets  and  sprays  of  diamonds, 
by  hanging  her  neck  and  arms  with  glittering  gems,  as  if  she  had 
been  a  statue  set  up  for  idolatry.  After  this  supreme  eflFort  of  the 
sex,  the  remainder  of  the  day  must  be  intolerably  flat.  For  I 
think  one  of  the  pleasures  of  life  must  be  the  gradual  transforma- 
tion, the  blooming  from  the  chrysalis  of  elegant  morning  desha- 
Mile  into  the  perfect  flower  of  the  evening  toilet. 

These  princesses  of  Turkish  diamonds  all  wore  dresses  with 
the  classic  short  waist,  which  is  the  most  womanly  and  becoming, 
and  perhaps  their  apparel  imparted  a  graciousness  to  their  manner. 
We  were  evcrj'where  cordially  received,  and  usually  off"ered  coff"ee, 
or  sherbet  and  confections. 

H.  H.  the  Emir  Abd-el-Kader  lives  in  a  house  suitable  to  a 
wealthy  Moslem  who  has  a  harem.  The  old  chieftain  had  ex- 
pressed his  willingness  to  receive  us,  and  N.  Meshaka,  the  Amer- 
ican consular  agent,  sent  his  katcass  to  accompany  us  to  his 
residence  at  the  appointed  hour.  The  old  gentleman  met  us  at 
the  door  of  his  reception-room,  which  is  at  one  end  of  the  foun- 
tained  court.  He  wore  the  plain  Arab  costume,  Avith  a  white 
turban.  I  had  heard  so  much  of  the  striking,  venerable,  and  even 
magnificent  appearance  of  this  formidable  desert  hero,  that  I 
experienced  a  little  disappointment  in  the  reality,  and  learned 
anew  that  the  hero  should  be  seen  in  action,  or  through  the  lenses 
of  imaginative  description  wliich  can  clothe  the  body  with  all  the 
attributes  of  the  soul.  The  demigods  so  seldom  come  up  to 
their  reputation !  Abd-el-Kader  may  have  appeared  a  gigantic 
man  when  on  horseback  in  the  smoke  and  whirl  of  an  Algerine 
combat ;  but  he  is  a  man  of  medium  size  and  scarcely  medium 
height ;  his  head,  if  not  large,  is  finely  shaped  and  intellectual,  and 
his  face  is  open  and  pleasing.     He  wore  a  beard,  trimmed,  which 


ABD-EL-KADER.  203 

I  suspect  ought  to  be  wliite,  but  which  was  black,  and  I  feai* 
dyed.  You  would  judge  him  to  be,  at  least,  seventy-five,  and  iiis 
age  begins  to  show  by  a  little  pallor,  by  a  visible  want  of  bodily 
force,  and  by  a  lack  of  lustre  in  those  once  fiery  and  untamable 
eyes. 

His  manner  was  very  gracious,  and  had  a  simple  dignity,  nor 
did  our  interview  mainly  consist  in  the  usual  strained  compli- 
ments of  such  occasions.  In  reply  to  a  question,  he  said  that  he 
had  lived  over  twenty  years  in  Damascus,  but  it  was  evident  that 
his  long  exile  had  not  dulled  his  interest  in  the  progress  of  the 
world,  and  that  he  watched  with  intense  feeling  all  movements  of 
peoples  in  the  direction  of  freedom.  There  is  no  such  teacher 
of  democracy  as  misfortune,  but  I  fancy  that  Abd-el-Kader 
sincerely  desires  for  others  the  liberty  he  covets  for  himself. 
He  certainly  has  the  courage  of  his  opinions ;  while  he  is  a  very 
strict  Moslem,  he  is  neither  bigoted  nor  intolerant,  as  he  showed 
by  his  conduct  during  the  massacre  of  the  Christians  here,  in 
1860.  His  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure  when  I  told  him  that 
Americans  remembered  with  much  gratitude  his  interference  in 
behalf  of  the  Christians  at  that  time. 

The  talk  drifting  to  the  state  of  France  and  Italy,  he  expressed 
his  full  sympathy  with  the  liberal  movement  of  the  Italian  govern- 
ment, but  as  to  Prance  he  had  no  hope  of  a  republic  at  present, 
he  did  not  think  the  people  capable  of  it. 

"But  America,"  he  said  with  sudden  enthusiasm,  "that  is  the 
country,  in  all  the  world  that  is  the  only  country,  that  is  the  land 
of  real  freedom.  "I  hope,"  he  added,  "that  you  wiU  have  no 
more  trouble  among  yourselves." 

We  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the  probability  of  another 
outburst  of  the  Druses,  which  was  getting  to  be  so  loudly  whis- 
pered. Nobody,  he  said,  could  tell  what  the  Druses  were  think- 
ing or  doing ;  he  had  no  doubt  that  in  the  former  rising  and 
massacre  they  were  abetted  by  the  Turkish  government.  This 
led  him  to  speak  of  the  condition  of  Syria;  the  people  were 
fearfully  ground  down,  and  oppressed  with  taxation  and  ex- 
actions of  all  sorts ;  in  comparison  he  did  not  think  Egypt  was 
any  better  off,  but  much  the  same. 


204  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

In  all  our  conversation  we  were  greatly  impressed  by  the  calm 
and  comprehensive  views  of  the  old  hero,  his  philosophical  tem- 
per, and  his  serenity ;  although  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  chafed 
under  the  banishment  which  kept  so  eager  a  soul  from  participa- 
tion in  the  great  movements  which  he  weighed  so  well  and  so 
longed  to  aid.  When  refreshments  had  been  served,  we  took  our 
leave ;  but  the  emir  insisted  upon  accompanying  us  through  the 
court  and  the  dirty  alleys,  even  to  the  public  street  where  our 
donkeys  awaited  us,  and  bade  us  farewell  with  a  profusion  of 
Oriental  salutations. 


XVI. 

SOME  SPECIMEN  TKAVELLEES. 


IT  is  to  be  regretted  that  some  one  has  not  the  leisure  and  the 
genius  —  for  it  would  require  both  —  to  study  and  to  sketch 
the  more  peculiar  of  the  travellers  who  journey  during  a  season 
in  the  Orient,  to  photograph  their  impressions,  and  to  unravel 
the  motives  that  have  set  them  wandering.  There  was  at  our 
hotel  a  countryman  whose  observations  on  the  East  pleased 
me  mightily.  I  infeiTed,  correctly,  from  his  slow  and  deliberate 
manner  of  speech,  that  he  was  from  the  great  West.  A  gentle- 
man spare  in  figure  and  sallow  in  complexion,  you  might  have 
mistaken  him  for  a  "member"  from  Tennessee  or  Illinois.  What 
you  specially  admired  in  him  was  his  entire  sincerity,  and  his 
imperviousness  to  all  the  glamour,  historical  or  romantic,  which 
interested  parties,  like  poets  and  historians,  have  sought  to  throw 
over  the  Orient.  A  heap  of  refuse  in  the  street  or  an  improvi- 
dent dependant  on  Allah,  in  rags,  was  just  as  offensive  to  him  in 
Damascus  as  it  would  be  in  Big  Lickopolis.  He  carried  his 
scales  with  him;  he  put  into  one  balance  his  county-seat  and 
into  the  other  the  entire  Eastern  civilization,  and  the  Orient 
kicked  the  beam,  —  and  it  was  with  a  mighty,  though  secret  joy 
that  you  saw  it. 

It  was  not  indeed  for  his  own  pleasure  that  he  had  left  the  fa- 
miliar cronies  of  his  own  town  and  come  into  foreign  and  uncom- 
fortable parts ;  you  could  see  that  he  would  much  prefer  to  be 
again  among  the  "directors  "  and  "  stockholders  "  and  operators, 
exchanging  the  dry  chips  of  gossip  about  stocks  and  rates ;  but, 
being  a  man  of  "  means,"  he  had  yielded  to  the  imperious  press- 


206  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

ure  of  our  modern  society  Avliich  insists  on  travel,  and  to  the 
natural  desire  of  his  family  to  see  the  world.  Europe  had  not 
pleased  him,  although  it  was  interesting  for  an  old  country,  and 
there  were  a  few  places,  the  Grand  Hotel  in  Paris  for  instance, 
where  one  feels  a  little  at  home.  Buildings,  cathedrals  ?  Yes, 
some  of  them  were  very  fine,  but  there  was  nothing  in  Europe  to 
equal  or  approach  the  Capitol  in  Washington.  And  galleries ; 
my  wife  likes  them,  and  my  daughter,  —  I  suppose  I  have  walked 
through  miles  and  miles  of  them.  It  may  have  been  in  the  nature 
of  a  confidential  confession,  that  he  was  dragged  into  the  East, 
though  he  made  no  concealment  of  his  repugnance  to  being  here. 
But  when  he  had  crossed  the  Mediterranean,  Europe  had  attrac- 
tions for  him  which  he  had  never  imagined  while  he  was  in  it. 
If  he  had  been  left  to  himself  he  would  have  fled  back  from  Cairo 
as  if  it  were  infested  with  plague ;  he  had  gone  no  farther  up  the 
Nile ;  that  miserable  hole,  Cairo,  was  sufiicient  for  him. 

"They  talk,"  he  was  saying,  speaking  with  that  deliberate 
pause  and  emphasis  upon  every  word  which  characterizes  the  con- 
versation of  his  section  of  the  country,  —  "  they  talk  about  the  cli- 
mate of  Egypt ;  it  is  aU  a  humbug.  Cairo  is  the  most  disagree- 
able city  in  the  world,  no  sun,  nothing  but  dust  and  wind.  I 
give  you  my  word  that  we  had  only  one  pleasant  day  in  a  week ; 
cold,  —  you  can't  get  warm  in  the  hotel ;  the  only  decent  day  we 
had  in  Egypt  was  at  Suez.  Fruit  ?  What  do  you  get  ?  Some 
pretend  to  like  those  dry  dates.  The  oranges  are  so  sour  you 
can't  eat  them,  except  the  Jaffa,  which  are  aU  peel.  Yes,  the  pyr- 
amids are  big  piles  of  stone,  but  when  you  come  to  architecture, 
what  is  there  in  Cairo  to  compare  to  the  Tuileries?  The  mosque 
of  Mohammed  Ali  is  a  fine  building ;  it  suits  me  better  than  the 
mosque  at  Jerusalem.     But  what  a  city  to  live  in !  " 

The  farther  our  friend  journeyed  in  the  Orient,  the  deeper  be- 
came his  disgust.  It  was  extreme  in  Jerusalem ;  but  it  had  a 
pathetic  tone  of  resignation  in  Damascus ;  hope  was  dead  within 
him.  The  day  after  we  had  visited  the  private  houses,  some  one 
asked  him  at  table  if  he  was  not  pleased  with  Damascus. 

"  Damascus  !  "  he  repeated,  "  Damascus  is  the  most  God-for- 
saken place  I  have  ever  been  in.     There  is  nothing  to  eat,  and 


A  WESTERN   OPINION.  207 

nothing  to  see.  I  had  heard  about  the  bazaars  of  Damascus  ;  my 
daughter  must  see  the  bazaars  of  Damascus.  Tliere  is  nothing  in 
them ;  I  liave  been  from  one  end  of  them  to  the  other,  —  it  is  a 
mess  of  rubbish.  I  suppose  you  were  hauled  through  what  they 
call  the  private  houses  ?  There  is  a  good  deal  of  marble  and  a 
good  deal  of  show,  but  there  is  n't  a  house  in  Damascus  that  a 
respectable  American  would  live  in ;  there  is  n't  one  he  could  be 
comfortable  in.  The  old  mosque  is  an  interesting  place  :  I  like 
tlie  mosque,  and  I  have  been  there  a  couple  of  times,  and 
shoidd  n't  mind  going  again  ;  but  I  've  had  enough  of  Damascus, 
I  don't  intend  to  go  out  doors  again  until  my  family  are  ready  to 
leave." 

All  these  intense  dislikes  of  the  Western  obsei-ver  were  warmly 
combated  by  the  ladies  present,  who  found  Damascus  almost  a 
paradise,  and  were  glowing  Avith  enthusiasm  over  every  place  and 
incident  of  their  journey.  Having  delivered  his  opinion,  our 
friend  let  the  conversation  run  on  without  interference,  as  it 
ranged  all  over  Palestine.  He  sat  in  silence,  as  if  he  were  pa- 
tiently enduring  anew  the  martyrdom  of  his  pleasure-trip,  until 
at  length,  obeying  a  seeming  necessity  of  relieving  his  feelings, 
he  leaned  forward  and  addressed  the  lady  next  but  one  to  him, 
measuring  every  word  with  judicial  slowness,  — 

"  Madame  —  I  —  hate  —  the  —  name  —  of  Palestine  —  and 
Judsea  —  and  —  the  Jordan  —  and  —  Damascus  —  and  —  J  e  r  u  - 
saZe»i." 

It  is  always  refreshing  in  travel  to  meet  a  candid  man  who  is 
not  hindered  by  any  weight  of  historic  consciousness  from  ex- 
pressing his  opinions ;  and  without  exactly  knowing  why  I  felt 
under  gi'eat  obligations  to  this  gentleman,  —  for  gentleman  he 
certainly  was,  even  to  an  old-fashioned  courtesy  that  shamed  the 
best  breeding  of  the  Arabs.  And  after  this  wdiolesale  sweep  of 
the  Oriental  board,  I  experienced  a  new  pleasure  in  going  about 
and  picking  up  the  fragments  of  romance  and  sentiment  that  one 
might  still  admire. 

There  was  another  pilgrim  at  Damascus  to  whom  Palestine  was 
larger  than  all  the  world  besides,  and  who  magnified  its  relation 
to  the  rest  of  the  earth  as  much  as  our  more  widely  travelled  friend 


208  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

belittled  it.  In  a  waste  but  damp  spot  outside  the  Bab-el-Hadid 
an  incongruous  Cook's  Party  had  pitched  its  tents,  —  a  camp 
which  swarmed  during  the  day  with  itinerant  merchants  and  beg- 
gars, and  at  night  Avas  the  favorite  resort  of  the  most  dissolute 
dogs  of  Damascus.  In  knowing  this  party  one  had  an  opportu- 
nity to  observe  the  various  motives  that  bring  people  to  the  Holy 
L,and ;  there  were  a  divinity  student,  a  college  professor,  a  well- 
known  publisher,  some  indomitable  English  ladies,  some  London 
cockneys,  and  a  group  of  young  men  AA'ho  made  a  lark  of  the 
pilgrimage,  and  saw  no  more  significance  in  the  tour  than  in  a 
jaunt  to  the  Derby  or  a  sail  to  Margate.  I  was  told  that  the 
guide-book  most  read  and  disputed  over  by  this  party  was  the 
graphic  itinerary  of  Mark  Twain.  The  pilgrim  to  whom  I  refer, 
however,  scarcely  needed  any  guide  in  the  Holy  Land.  He  was, 
by  his  own  representation,  an  illiterate  shoemaker  from  the  South 
of  England ;  of  schooling  he  had  never  enjoyed  a  day,  nor  of 
education,  except  such  as  sprung  from  his  "  conversion,"  which 
happened  in  his  twentieth  year.  At  that  age  he  joined  the 
"  Primitive  Methodists,"  and  became,  without  abandoning  his 
bench,  an  occasional  exhorter  and  field-preacher ;  his  study,  to 
which  he  gave  every  moment  not  demanded  by  his  trade,  was  the 
Bible.  To  exhorting  he  added  the  labor  on  Sunday  of  teaching, 
and  for  nearly  forty  years,  Avithout  inteiTuption,  he  had  taken 
charge  of  a  Sunday-school  class.  He  was  very  poor,  and  the 
incessant  labor  of  six  days  in  the  week  hardly  sufficed  to  the  sup- 
port of  himself  and  his  wife,  and  the  family  that  began  to  fill  his 
humble  lodging.  Nevertheless,  at  the  very  time  of  his  conver- 
sion he  Avas  seized  Avith  an  intense  longing  to  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  Holy  Land.  This  desire  strengthened  the  more  he  read 
the  Bible  and  became  interested  in  the  scenes  of  its  prophecies 
and  miracles.  He  resolved  to  go  ;  yet  to  undertake  so  expensive 
a  journey  at  the  time  Avas  impossible,  nor  could  his  family  spare 
his  daily  labor.  But,  early  in  his  married  life,  he  came  to  a  not- 
able resolution,  and  that  Avas  to  lay  by  something  every  year,  no 
matter  how  insignificant  the  sum,  as  a  fund  for  his  pilgrimage. 
And  he  trusted  if  his  life  Avere  spared  long  enough  he  should  be 
able  to  see  Avith  his  own  eyes  the  Promised  Land ;  if  that  might 


THE   SHOEMAKER   PILGRIM.  209 

be  granted  him,  his  object  in  life  would  be  attained,  and  lie  should 
be  willing  to  depart  in  peace. 

Filled  with  this  sole  idea  he  labored  at  his  trade  without  relaxa- 
tion, and  gave  his  Sundays  and  evenings  to  a  most  diligent  study 
of  the  Bible  ;  and  at  length  extended  his  reading  to  other  books, 
commentaries  and  travels,  which  bore  upon  his  favorite  object. 
Years  passed  by  ;  his  Palestine  fund  accumulated  more  slowly 
than  his  information  about  that  land,  but  he  was  never  discour- 
aged ;  he  lost  at  one  time  a  considerable  sum  by  misplaced  confi- 
dence in  a  comrade,  but,  nothing  disheartened,  he  set  to  work  to 
hammer  out  what  would  replace  it.  Of  course  such  industry  and 
singleness  of  purpose  were  not  without  result ;  his  business  pros- 
pered and  his  fund  increased ;  but  with  his  success  new  duties 
opened ;  his  children  must  be  educated,  for  he  was  determined  that 
they  should  have  a  better  chance  in  England  than  their  father  had 
been  given.  The  expenses  of  their  education  and  his  contribu- 
tions to  the  maintenance  of  the  worship  of  his  society  interfered 
sadly  with  his  pilgrimage,  and  more  than  thirty  years  passed  be- 
fore he  saw  himself  in  possession  of  the  sum  that  he  could  spare 
for  the  purchase  of  a  Cook's  ticket  to  the  Holy  Land.  It  was 
with  pardonable  pride  that  he  told  this  story  of  his  life,  and 
added  that  his  business  of  shoemaking  was  now  prosperous,  that 
he  had  now  a  shop  of  his  own  and  men  working  under  him,  and 
that  one  of  his  sons,  who  would  have  as  good  an  education  as 
any  nobleman  in  the  kingdom,  was  a  student  at  the  college  in 
London. 

Of  all  the  party  with  whom  he  travelled  no  one  knew  the  Bible 
so  well  as  this  shoemaker ;  he  did  not  need  to  read  it  as  they 
explored  the  historical  places,  he  quoted  chapter  after  chapter  of 
it,  without  hesitation  or  consciousness  of  any  great  achievement, 
and  he  knew  almost  as  well  the  books  of  travel  that  relate  to  the 
country.  Familiarity  with  the  English  of  the  Bible  had  not, 
however,  caused  him  to  abandon  his  primitive  speech,  and  he  did 
not  show  his  respect  for  the  sacred  book  by  adopting  its  grammat- 
ical forms.  Such  phrases  as,  "  It  does  I  good  to  see  he  eat," 
in  respect  to  a  convalescent  comrade,  exhibited  this  peculiar- 
ity.    Indeed,  he  preserved  his  independence,  and  vindicated  the 


210  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

reputation  of  tis  craft  tlie  world  over  for  a  certain  obstinacy 
of  opinion,  if  not  philosophic  habit  of  mind,  which  pounding 
upon  leather  seems  to  promote.  He  surprised  his  comrades  by 
a  liberality  of  view  and  an  absence  of  narrowness  which  were 
scarcely  to  be  expected  in  a  man  of  one  idea.  I  was  pained  to 
think  that  the  reality  of  the  Holy  Land  might  a  little  impair 
the  celestial  vision  he  had  cherished  of  it  for  forty  years  ;  but 
perhaps  it  will  be  only  a  temporary  obscuration  ;  for  the  imagina- 
tion is  stronger  than  the  memory,  as  we  see  so  often  illustrated  in 
the  writings  of  Oriental  travellers  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  now 
he  is  again  seated  on  his  bench,  the  kingdoms  he  beholds  are 
those  of  Israel  and  Judah,  and  not  those  that  Mr.  Cook  showed 
him  for  an  hundred  pounds. 

We  should,  perhaps,  add,  that  our  shoemaker  cared  for  no  part 
of  the  Orient  except  Palestine,  and  for  no  history  except  that  in 
the  Bible.  He  told  me  that  he  was  forwarded  from  London  to 
Eome,  on  his  way  to  join  Cook's  Pilgrims  at  Cairo,  in  the  com- 
pany of  a  party  of  Select  Baptists  (so  they  were  styled  in  the 
prospectus  of  their  journey),  and  that,  unexpectedly  to  himself  (for 
he  was  a  man  who  could  surmount  prejudices),  he  found  them 
very  good  fellows  ;  but  that  he  was  obliged  to  spend  a  whole  day 
in  Eome  greatly  against  his  will ;  it  was  an  old  and  dilapidated 
city,  and  he  did  n't  see  why  so  much  fuss  was  made  over  it. 
Egypt  did  not  more  appeal  to  his  fancy  ;  I  think  he  rather  loathed 
it,  both  its  past  and  its  present,  as  the  seat  of  a  vain  heathenism. 
For  ruins  or  antiquities  not  mentioned  in  the  Bible  he  cared 
nothing,  for  profane  architecture  still  less  ;  Palestine  was  his 
goal,  and  I  doubt  if  since  the  first  crusade  any  pilgrim  has  trod 
the  streets  of  Jerusalem  with  such  fervor  of  enthusiasm  as  this 
illiterate,  Bible-grounded,  and  spiritual-minded  shoemaker. 

We  rode  one  afternoon  up  through  the  suburb  of  Salahiyeh  to 
the  sheykh's  tomb  on  the  naked  hill  north  of  the  city,  and  down 
along  the  scarred  side  of  it  into  the  Abana  gorge.  This  much- 
vaunted  ride  is  most  of  the  way  between  mud-walls  so  high  that 
you  have  a  sight  of  nothing  but  the  sky  and  the  tops  of  trees,  and 
an  occasional  peep,  through  chinks  in  a  rickety  gate,  into  a  damp 
and  neglected  garden,  or  a  ragged  field  of  grain  under  trees.     But 


A  VIEW   OF  THE  CITY.  211 

the  view  from  the  heights  over  the  vast -plain  of  Damascus,  with 
the  city  embowered  in  its  green,  is  superb,  both  for  extent  and 
color,  and  quite  excuses  the  enthusiasm  expended  on  this  peren- 
nial city  of  waters.  We  had  occasional  glimpses  of  the  Abana 
after  it  leaves  the  city,  and  we  could  trace  afar  off  the  course  of 
the  Pharpar  by  its  winding  ribbon  of  green.  The  view  was  best 
long  before  we  reached  the  summit,  at  the  cemetery  and  the  ruined 
mosque,  when  the  minarets  showed  against  the  green  beyond. 
A  city  needs  to  be  seen  from  some  distance,  and  from  not  too  high 
an  elevation ;  looking  directly  down  upon  it  is  always  uninteresting. 

Somewhere  in  the  side  of  the  mountain,  to  the  right  of  our 
course,  one  of  the  Moslem  legends  has  located  the  cave  of  the 
Seven  Sleepers.  Knowing  that  the  cave  is  really  at  Ephesus,  we 
did  not  care  to  anticipate  it. 

The  skeykh's  tomb  is  simply  a  stucco  dome  on  the  ridge,  and 
exposed  to  the  draft  of  air  from  a  valley  behind  it.  The  wind 
blew  with  such  violence  that  we  could  scarcely  stand  there,  and 
we  made  all  our  observations  with  great  discomfort.  What  we 
saw  was  the  city  of  Damascus,  shaped  like  an  oval  dish  mth  a 
long  handle  ;  the  handle  is  the  suburb  on  the  street  running  from 
the  Gate  of  God  that  sees  the  annual  procession  of  pilgrims  de- 
part for  Mecca.  Many  brown  villages  dot  the  emerald,  —  there 
are  said  to  be  forty  in  the  whole  plain.  Towards  the  east  we  saw 
the  desert  and  the  gray  sand  fading  into  the  gray  sky  of  the  hori- 
zon. That  way  lies  Palmyra  ;  by  that  route  goes  the  dromedary 
post  to  Bagdad.     I  should  like  to  send  a  letter  by  it. 

The  view  of  the  Abana  gorge  from  the  height  before  we  de- 
scended was  unique.  The  narrow  pass  is  filled  with  trees  ;  but 
through  them  we  coidd  see  the  white  French  road,  and  the  Abana 
divided  into  five  streams,  earned  at  different  levels  along  the  sides, 
in  order  to  convey  water  widely  over  the  plain.  Along  the  meadow 
road,  as  we  trotted  towards  the  city,  as,  indeed,  everywhere  about 
the  city  at  this  season,  we  found  the  ground  marshy  and  vivacious 
wdth  frogs. 

The  street  called  Straight  runs  the  length  of  the  city  from  east 
to  west,  and  is  straight  in  its  general  intention,  although  it  ap- 
pears to  have  been  laid  out  by  a  donkey,  whose  attention  was  con- 


212  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

stantly  diverted  to  one  side  or  the  other.  It  is  a  totally  uninter- 
esting lane.  There  is  no  reason,  however,  to  suppose  that  St. 
Paul  intended  to  be  facetious  when  he  spoke  of  it.  In  his  day  it 
was  a  magnificent  straight  avenue,  one  hundred  feet  wide ;  and 
two  rows  of  Corinthian  colonnades  extending  a  mile  from  gate  to 
gate  divided  it  lengthwise.  This  was  an  architectural  fashion  of 
that  time  ;  the  colonnade  at  Palmyra,  which  is  seen  stalking  in  a 
purposeless  manner  across  the  desert,  was  doubtless  the  ornament 
of  such  a  street. 

The  street  life  of  Damascus  is  that  panorama  of  the  mean  and 
the  picturesque,  the  sordid  and  the  rich,  of  silk  and  rags,  of  many 
costumes  and  all  colors,  which  so  astonishes  the  Oriental  traveller 
at  first,  but  to  which  he  speedily  becomes  so  accustomed  that  it 
passes  almost  unnoticed.  The  majority  of  the  women  are  veiled, 
but  not  so  scrupulously  as  those  of  Cairo.  Yet  the  more  we  see 
of  the  women  of  the  East  the  more  convinced  we  are  that  they 
are  exceedingly  good-hearted ;  it  is  out  of  consideration  for  the 
feelings  of  the  persons  they  meet  in  the  street  that  they  go  veiled. 
This  theory  is  supported  by  the  fact  that  the  daughters  of  Beth- 
lehem, who  are  all  comely  and  many  of  them  handsome,  never 
wear  veils. 

In  lounging  through  the  streets  the  whole  life  and  traffic  of 
the  town  is  exposed  to  you  :  donkeys  loaded  with  panniers  of 
oranges,  or  with  sickly  watermelon  cut  up,  stop  the  way  (aU 
the  melons  of  the  East  that  I  have  tasted  are  flavorless) ;  men 
bearing  trays  of  sliced  boiled  beets  cry  aloud  their  deliciousness 
as  if  they  Avere  some  fruit  of  paradise ;  boys  and  women  seated 
on  the  ground,  having  spread  before  them  on  a  paper  some  sort 
of  uninviting  candy ;  anybody  planted  by  the  roadside ;  dogs  by 
the  dozen  snoozing  in  all  the  paths,  —  the  dogs  that  wake  at  night 
and  make  Kome  howl;  the  various  tradesmen  hammering  in  their 
open  shops ;  the  silk-weavers  plying  the  shuttle ;  the  makers  of 
"  sweets  "  stirring  the  sticky  compounds  in  their  shining  copper 
pots  and  pans ;  and  what  never  ceases  to  excite  your  admiration 
is  the  good-nature  of  the  surging  crowd,  the  indiff"erence  to  being 
jostled  and  run  over  by  horses,  donkeys,  and  camels. 

Damascus  may  be — we  have  abundant  testimony  that  it  is  —  a 


A   VIEW   OF  THE   CITY.  213 

good  city,  if,  as  I  said,  one  could  see  it.  Arriving,  you  dive  into 
a  hole,  and  scarcely  see  daylight  again ;  you  never  can  look  many 
yards  before  you ;  you  move  in  a  sort  of  twilight,  which  is  deep- 
ened under  the  heavy  timber  roofs  of  the  bazaars  ;  winding 
through  endless  mazes  of  lanes  with  no  view  except  of  a  slender 
strip  of  sky,  you  occasionally  may  step  through  an  opening  in 
the  wall  into  a  court  Avitli  a  square  of  sunshine,  a  tank  of  water, 
and  a  tree  or  two.  The  city  can  be  seen  only  from  the  hill  or 
from  a  minaret,  and  then  you  look  only  upon  roofs.  After  a  few 
days  the  cooping  up  in  this  gorgeous  Oriental  paradise  became 
oppressive. 

We  drove  out  of  the  city  veiy  early  one  morning.  I  was 
obliged  to  the  muezzin  of  the  nearest  minaret  for  awakening  me 
at  four  o'clock.  From  our  window  we  can  see  his  aerial  balcony, 
—  it  almost  overhangs  us ;  and  day  and  night  at  his  appointed 
hours  we  see  the  turbaned  muezzin  circling  his  high  pinnacle,  and 
hear  him  projecting  his  long  call  to  prayer  over  the  city  roofs. 
When  we  came  out  at  the  -west  gate,  the  sun  was  high  enough  to 
color  Hermon  and  the  minarets  of  the  west  side  of  the  city,  and 
to  gleam  on  the  Abana.  As  we  passed  the  diligence  station,  a 
tall  Nubian,  an  employe  of  the  company,  stood  there  in  the  atti- 
tude of  seneschal  of  the  city ;  ugliness  had  marked  him  for  her 
own,  giving  him  a  large,  damaged  expanse  of  face,  from  Avhich 
exuded,  however,  an  inexpungible  good-nature ;  he  sent  us  a 
cheerful  saldm  aloykem,  —  "  the  peace  of  God  be  Avith  you  "  ;  we 
crossed  the  shaky  bridge,  and  got  away  up  the  swift  stream  at 
the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour. 

Our  last  view,  with  the  level  sun  coming  over  the  roofs  and 
spires,  and  the  foreground  of  rapid  water  and  verdure,  gave  us 
Damascus  in  its  loveliest  aspect. 


XVII. 


INTO  DAYLIGHT  AGAIN.  — AN  EPISODE  OF  TURKISH 
JUSTICE. 


IT  was  an  immense  relief  to  emerge  from  Damascus  into  Bey- 
rout,  —  into  a  city  open,  cheerful ;  it  was  to  re-enter  the 
world.  HoAv  brightly  it  lies  upon  its  sunny  promontory,  climb- 
ing up  the  slopes  and  crowning  every  eminence  with  tree-era- 
bowered  villas  !  What  a  varied  prospect  it  commands  of  spark- 
ling sea  and  curving  shore  ;  of  country  broken  into  the  most  pleas- 
ing diversity  of  hill  and  vale,  woodlands  and  pastures ;  of  preci- 
pices that  are  draped  in  foliage  ;  of  glens  that  retain  their  primitive 
wildness,  strips  of  dark  pine  forest,  groups  of  cypresses  and  of 
palms,  spreading  mulberry  orchards,  and  terraces  draped  by  vines  ; 
of  villages  dotting  the  landscape ;  of  convents  clinging  to  the 
heights,  and  the  snowy  peaks  of  Lebanon !  Bounteous  land  of 
silk  and  wine  ! 

Beyrout  is  the  brightest  spot  in  Syria  or  Palestine,  the  only 
pleasant  city  that  we  saw,  and  the  centre  of  a  moral  and  intel- 
lectual impulse  the  importance  of  which  we  cannot  overestimate. 
The  mart  of  the  great  sdk  industry  of  the  region,  and  the  seaport 
of  Damascus  and  of  all  L^pper  Syria,  the  fitful  and  unintelligent 
Turkish  rule  even  cannot  stifle  its  exuberant  prosperity ;  but 
above  all  the  advantages  which  nature  has  given  it,  I  should  at- 
tribute its  brightest  prospects  to  the  influence  of  the  American 
Mission,  and  to  the  establishment  of  Beyrout  College.  For  almost 
thirty  years  that  Mission  has  sustained  here  a  band  of  erudite 
scholars,  whose  investigations  have  made  the  world  more  familiar 
with  the  physical  character  of  Palestine  than  the  people  of  Con- 


THE  AMERICAN  COLLEGE.  215 

necticut  are  with  the  resources  of  their  own  State,  and  of  ■wise 
managers  whose  prudence  and  foresight  have  laid  deep  and  broad 
the  foundations  of  a  Syrian  civilization. 

I  do  not  know  how  many  converts  have  been  made  in  thirty 
years,  —  the  East  has  had  ample  illustration,  from  the  Abyssinians 
to  the  Colchians,  of  "  conversion  "  without  knowdedge  or  civili- 
zation, —  nor  do  I  believe  that  any  "  reports  "  of  the  workmen 
themselves  to  the  "  Board  "  can  put  in  visible  array  adequately 
the  results  of  the  American  Mission  in  Syria.  But  the  transient 
visitor  can  see  something  of  them,  in  the  dawning  of  a  better 
social  life,  in  the  beginning  of  an  improvement  in  the  condition  of 
women,  in  an  unmistakable  spirit  of  inquiry,  and  a  recognizable 
taste  for  intellectual  pursuits.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
birth  of  a  desire  for  instruction,  for  the  enjoyment  of  literature, 
and,  to  a  certain  extent,  of  science,  is  due  to  their  schools  ;  and 
that  their  admirably  conducted  press,  which  has  sent  out  not  only 
translations  of  the  Scriptures,  but  periodicals  of  secular  literature 
and  information,  and  elementary  geographies,  histories,  and  scien- 
tific treatises,  has  satisfied  the  want  which  the  schools  created. 
And  this  new  leaven  is  not  confined  to  a  sect,  nor  limited  to  a 
race ;  it  is  working,  slowly  it  is  true,  in  the  whole  of  Syrian 
society. 

The  press  establishment  is  near  the  pretty  and  substantial 
church  of  the  Mission  ;  it  is  a  busy  and  well-ordered  printing  and 
publishing  house ;  sending  out,  besides  its  religious  Avorks  and 
school-books,  a  monthly  and  a  weekly  publication  and  a  child's 
paper,  which  has  a  large  and  paying  circulation,  a  great  number 
of  its  subscribers  being  Moslems.  These  regenerating  agencies 
—  the  schools  and  the  press  —  are  happily  supplemented  by  the 
college,  which  offers  to  the  young  men  of  the  Orient  the  chance  of 
a  high  education,  and  attracts  students  even  from  the  banks  of  the 
Nile.  We  were  accompanied  to  the  college  by  Dr.  Jessup  and  Dr. 
Post,  and  spent  an  interesting  morning  in  inspecting  the  buildings 
and  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  lovely  prospect  they  command.  As 
it  is  not  my  desire  to  enter  into  details  regarding  the  Mission  or 
the  college  any  further  than  is  necessary  to  emphasize  the  su- 
preme importance  of  this  enterprise  to  the  civilization   of  the 


216  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

Orient,  I  will  only  add  that  the  college  has  already  some  interest- 
ing collections  in  natural  history,  a  particularly  valuable  herbarium, 
and  that  the  medical  department  is  not  second  in  promise  to  the 
literary. 

It  is  sometimes  observed  that  a  city  is  like  a  man,  in  that  it 
will  preserve  through  all  mutations  and  disasters  certain  funda- 
mental traits ;  the  character  that  it  obtains  at  first  is  never  AvhoUy 
lost,  but  reappears  again  and  again,  asserting  its  individuality 
after,  it  may  be,  centuries  of  obscurity.  Bey  rout  was  early  a  seat 
of  learning  and  a  centre  of  literary  influence  ;  for  nearly  three 
hundred  years  before  its  desolation  by  an  earthquake  in  the  middle 
of  the  sixth  century,  and  its  subsequent  devastation  by  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  Arabian  prophet,  it  was  thronged  with  students  from 
all  the  East,  and  its  schools  of  philosophy  and  law  enjoyed  the 
highest  renown.  AVe  believe  that  it  is  gradually  resuming  its 
ancient  prest'uje. 

Wliile  we  were  waiting  day  after  day  the  arrival  of  the  Austrian 
steamboat  for  Constantinople,  we  were  drawn  into  a  little  drama 
which  afforded  us  alternate  vexation  and  amusement ;  an  outline 
of  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  here  as  an  illustration  of  the  \acissi- 
tudes  of  travel  in  the  East,  or  for  other  reasons  which  may  appear. 
I  should  premise  that  the  American  consul  who  resided  here  with 
his  family  was  not  in  good  repute  with  many  of  the  foreign  resi- 
dents ;  that  he  was  charged  \vith  making  personal  contributions 
to  himself  the  condition  of  the  continuance  in  office  of  his  sub- 
agents  in  Syria  ;  that  the  character  of  his  dragomans,  or  at  least 
one  of  them  named  Ouardy,  was  exceedingly  bad,  and  brought 
the  consular  office  and  the  American  name  into  contempt ;  and 
that  these  charges  had  been  investigated  by  an  agent  sent  from 
the  ministerial  bureau  in  Constantinople.  The  dragomans  of  the 
consulate,  who  act  as  interpreters,  and  are  executors  of  the  con- 
sul's authority,  have  no  pay,  but  their  position  gives  them  a  con- 
sideration in  the  community,  and  a  protection  which  they  turn  to 
pecuniary  account.  It  should  be  added  that  the  salary  of  the 
consul  at  Beyrout  is  two  thousand  dollars,  — a  sum,  in  this  expen- 
sive city,  which  is  insufficient  to  support  a  consul,  who  has  a 
family,  in  the  style  of  a  respectable  citizen,  and  is  wholly  inade- 


A  DRAGOMAN'S   QUARREL.  217 

quate  to  the  maintenance  of  any  equality  with  the  representatives 
of  other  nations ;  the  government  allows  no  outfit,  nor  does  it 
provide  for  the  return  of  its  consiJ  ;  the  cost  of  transporting  him- 
self and  family  home  would  consume  almost  half  a  year's  salary, 
and  the  tenure  of  the  office  is  uncertain.  To  accept  any  of  several 
of  our  Oriental  consulships,  a  man  must  either  have  a  private 
fortune  or  an  unscrupulous  knack  of  living  by  his  wits.  The 
English  name  is  almost  universally  respected  in  the  East,  so  far  as 
my  limited  experience  goes,  in  the  character  of  its  consuls ;  the 
same  cannot  be  said  of  the  American. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival,  descending  the  steps  of  the  hotel, 
I  found  our  dragoman  in  a  violent  altercation  with  another  drago- 
man, a  Jew,  and  a  resident  of  Beyrout.  There  is  always  a  latent 
enmity  between  the  Egyptian  and  the  Syrian  dragomans,  a  national 
hostility,  as  old  perhaps  as  the  Shepherds'  invasion,  which  it  needs 
only  an  occasion  to  blow  into  a  flame.  The  disputants  were  sur- 
rounded by  a  motley  crowd,  nearly  aU  of  them  the  adherents  of 
the  Syrian.  I  had  seen  Antoine  Ouardy  at  Luxor,  when  he  was 
the  dragoman  of  an  English  traveller.  He  was  now  in  Frank 
dress,  wearing  a  shining  hat,  an  enormous  cluster  shirt-pin,  and 
a  big  seal  ring ;  and  with  his  aggressive  nose  and  brazen  face  he 
had  the  appearance  of  a  leading  mock-auctioneer  in  the  Bowery. 
On  the  Nile,  where  Abd-el-Atti  enjoys  the  distinction  of  Sultan 
among  his  class,  the  fellow  was  his  humble  servant ;  but  he  had 
now  caught  the  Egyptian  away  from  home,  and  was  disposed  to 
make  the  most  of  his  advantage.  Chancing  to  meet  Ouardy  this 
morning,  Abd-el-Atti  had  asked  for  the  payment  of  two  pounds 
lent  at  Luxor ;  the  debt  was  promptly  denied,  and  when  his  own 
due-bill  for  the  money  was  produced,  he  declared  that  he  had 
received  the  money  from  Abd-el-Atti  in  payment  for  some  cigars 
which  he  had  long  ago  purchased  for  him  in  Alexandria.  Of 
course  if  this  had  been  true,  he  would  not  have  given  a  note  for 
the  money ;  and  it  happened  that  I  had  been  present  when  the 
sum  was  borrowed. 

The  brazen  denial  exasperated  our  dragoman,  and  when  I 
aiTived  the  quarrel  had  come  nearly  to  blows,  all  the  injurious 
Arabic  epithets  having  been  exhausted.  The  lie  direct  had  been 
10 


218  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

given  back  and  forth,  but  the  crowning  insult  was  added,  in  Eng- 
lish, when  Abd-el-Atti  cried,  — 

"  You  're  a  humbug  !  " 

This  was  more  than  Ouardy  could  stand.  Bursting  with  rage, 
he  shook  his  fist  in  the  Egyptian's  face  :  — 

"  You  caU  me  humbug ;  you  hum6«^,  yourself.  You  pay  for 
this,  I  shall  have  satisfaction  by  the  law." 

We  succeeded  in  separating  and,  I  hoped,  in  reducing  them  to 
reason,  but  Antoine  went  ofi'  muttering  vengeance,  and  Abd-el-Atti 
was  determined  to  bring  suit  for  his  money.  I  represented  the 
hopelessness  of  a  suit  in  a  Turkish  court,  the  delay  and  the  cost 
of  lawyers,  and  the  certainty  that  Ouardy  would  produce  wit- 
nesses to  anything  he  desired  to  prove. 

"  What  I  care  for  two  pound  !  "  exclaimed  the  heated  drago- 
man.    "  I  go  to  spend  a  hundred  pound,  but  I  have  justice." 

Shortly  after,  as  Abd-el-Atti  was  walking  through  the  bazaars, 
with  one  of  the  ladies  of  our  party,  he  was  set  upon  by  a  gang  of 
Ouardy's  friends  and  knocked  down ;  the  old  man  recovered  him- 
self and  gave  battle  like  a  valiant  friend  of  the  Prophet ;  Ouardy's 
brother  sallied  o\it  from  his  shop  to  take  a  hand  in  the  scrimmage, 
and  happened  to  get  a  rough  handling  from  Abd-el-Atti,  who  was 
entirely  ignorant  of  his  relationship  to  Antoine.  The  whole 
party  were  then  carried  off  to  the  seraglio,  where  Abd-el-Atti,  as 
the  party  attacked,  was  presumed  to  be  in  the  wrong,  and  was 
put  into  custody.  In  the  inscrutable  administration  of  Turkish 
justice,  the  man  who  is  knocked  down  in  a  quarrel  is  always 
arrested.  When  news  was  brought  to  us  at  the  hotel  of  this  mis- 
hap, I  sent  for  the  American  consul,  as  our  dragoman  was  in  the 
service  of  an  American  citizen.  The  consul  sent  his  son  and  his 
dragoman.  And  the  dragoman  sent  to  assist  an  American,  em- 
barrassed by  the  loss  of  his  servant  in  a  strange  city,  turned  out 
to  be  the  brother  of  Antoine  Ouardy,  and  the  very  fellow  that 
Abd-el-Atti  had  just  beaten.  Here  was  a  complication.  Drago- 
man Ouardy  showed  his  wounds,  and  wanted  compensation  for 
his  injuries.  At  the  very  moment  we  needed  the  protection  of 
the  American  government,  its  representative  appeared  as  our 
chief  prosecutor. 


ABD-EL-ATTI   IN  JAIL.  219 

HoweTer,  we  sent  for  Abd-el-Atti,  and  procured  Lis  release  from 
the  seraglio  ;  and  after  an  hour  of  conference,  in  which  we  had 
the  assistance  of  some  of  the  most  respectable  foreign  residents 
of  the  city,  we  flattered  ourselves  that  a  compromise  was  made. 
The  injured  Ouardy,  who  was  a  crafty  rogue,  was  persuaded  not 
to  insist  upon  a  suit  for  damages,  which  would  greatly  incom- 
mode an  American  citizen,  and  Abd-el-Atti  seemed  willing  to 
drop  his  suit  for  the  two  pounds.  Antoine,  however,  was  still 
menacing. 

"  You  heard  him,"  he  appealed  to  me,  "  you  heard  him  call  me 
humbug." 

The  injurious  nature  of  this  mysterious  epithet  could  not  be 
erased  from  his  mind.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  told  him  it  had 
been  freely  applied  to  a  well-known  American,  until  it  had  be- 
come a  badge  of  distinction.  But  at  length  a  truce  was  patched 
up ;  and,  confident  that  there  would  be  no  more  trouble,  I  went 
int6  the  country  for  a  long  walk  over  the  charming  hills. 

When  I  returned  at  six  o'clock,  the  camp  was  in  commotion. 
Abd-el-Atti  was  in  jail !  There  was  a  suit  against  him  for  20,000 
francs  for  horrible  and  unprovoked  injuries  to  the  dragoman  of 
the  American  consul !  The  consul,  upon  written  application  for 
assistance,  made  by  the  ladies  at  the  hotel,  had  curtly  declined  to 
give  any  aid,  and  espoused  the  quaiTel  of  his  dragoman.  It 
appeared  that  Abd-el-Atti,  attempting  again  to  accompany  a  lady 
in  a  shopping  expedition  through  the  bazaars,  had  been  sent  for 
by  a  messenger  from  the  seraglio.  As  he  could  not  leave  the 
lady  in  the  street,  he  carelessly  answered  that  he  would  come  by 
and  by.  A  few  minutes  after  he  Avas  arrested  by  a  squad  of 
soldiers,  and  taken  before  the  military  governor.  Abd-el-Atti 
respectfully  made  his  excuse  that  he  could  not  leave  the  lady  alone 
in  the  street,  but  the  pasha  said  that  he  would  teach  him  not  to 
insult  his  authority.  Both  the  Ouardy  brothers  were  beside 
the  pasha,  whispering  in  his  ear,  and  as  the  result  of  their  de- 
liberations Abd-el-Atti  was  put  in  prison.  It  was  Saturday  after- 
noon, and  the  conspirators  expected  to  humiliate  the  old  man  by 
keeping  him  locked  up  till  Monday.  This  was  the  state  of  the 
game  when  I  came  to  dinner;  the  faithful  AbdaUah,  who  had 


220  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

reluctantly  withdrawn  from  watching  the  outside  of  the  seraglio 
where  his  master  was  confined,  was  divided  in  mind  between 
grief  and  alann  on  the  one  side  and  his  duty  of  habitual  cheerful- 
ness to  us  on  the  other,  and  consequently  announced,  "  Abd-el- 
Atti,  seraglio,"  as  a  piece  of  good  news ;  the  affair  had  got  wind 
among  the  cafes,  where  there  was  a  buzz  of  triumph  over  the 
Egyptians ;  and  at  the  hotel  everybody  was  drawn  into  the  ex- 
citement, discussing  the  assault  and  the  arrest  of  the  assaulted 
party,  the  American  consul  and  the  character  of  his  dragoman, 
and  the  general  inability  of  American  consuls  to  help  their  coun- 
trymen in  time  of  need. 

The  principal  champion  of  Abd-el-Atti  was  Mohammed  Achnied, 
the  dragoman  of  two  American  ladies  who  had  been  travelling  in 
Egypt  and  Palestine.  Achraed  was  a  character.  He  had  the 
pure  Arab  physiognomy,  the  vivacity  of  an  Italian,  the  restless- 
ness of  an  American,  the  courtesy  of  the  most  polished  Oriental, 
and  a  unique  use  of  the  English  tongue.  Copious  in  speech,  at 
times  flighty  in  manner,  gravely  humorous,  and  more  sharp-witted 
than  the  "  cutest "  Yankee,  he  was  an  exceedingly  experienced 
and  skilful  dragoman,  and  perfectly  honest  to  his  employers. 
Achmed  was  clad  in  baggy  ti'ousers,  a  silk  scarf  about  his  waist, 
short  open  jacket,  and  wore  his  tarboosh  on  the  back  of  his  slop- 
ing head.  He  had  a  habit  of  throwing  back  his  head  and  half 
closing  his  wandering,  restless  black  eyes  in  speaking,  and  his 
gestures  and  attitudes  might  have  been  called  theatrical  but  for  a 
certain  simple  sincerity  ;  yet  any  extravagance  of  speech  or  action 
was  always  saved  from  an  appearance  of  absurdity  by  a  humorous 
twinkle  in  his  eyes.  Alexandria  was  his  home,  while  Abd-el-Atti 
lived  in  Cairo ;  the  natural  rivalry  between  the  dragomans  of  the 
two  cities  had  been  imbittered  by  some  personal  disagreement, 
and  they  were  only  on  terms  of  the  most  distant  civility.  But 
Abd-el-Atti's  misfortune  not  only  roused  his  national  pride,  but 
touched  his  quick  generosity,  and  he  surprised  his  employers  by 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  espoused  the  cause  and  defended 
the  character  of  the  man  he  had  so  lately  regarded  as  anytliiug 
but  a  friend.  He  went  to  work  with  unselfish  zeal  to  procure  his 
release ;  he  would  think  of  nothing  else,  talk  of  nothing  else. 


ACHMED   ON   THE   CONSUL   AMERICAN.  221 

"  How  is  it,  Achmed,"  they  said,  "  that  you  and  Abd-el-Atti 
have  suddenly  become  such  good  friends  ?  " 

"  Ah,  my  lady,"  answers  Achmed,  taking  an  attitude,  "  you 
know  not  Abd-el-Atti,  one  of  the  firste-class  men  in  all  Egypt. 
Not  a  common  dragoman  like  these  in  Beyrout,  my  lady ;  you 
shall  ask  in  Cairo  what  a  man  of  esteem.  To  tell  it  in  Cairo  that 
he  is  in  jail !  Abd-el-Atti  is  my  friend.  What  has  been  some- 
time, that  is  nothing.  It  must  not  be  that  he  is  in  jail.  And  he 
come  out  in  half  an  hour,  if  your  consul  say  so." 

"  That  is  not  so  certain  ;  but  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  Write  to  the  consul  American  that  he  shall  let  Abd-el-Atti 
go.  You,  my  lady,"  said  Achmed,  throwing  himself  on  his  knees 
before  the  person  he  was  addressing,  "  make  a  letter,  and  say  I 
want  my  dragoman  immediate.  If  he  will  not,  I  go  to  the 
English  consul,  I  know  he  will  do  it.  Excuse  me,  but  will  you 
make  the  letter  ?  When  it  was  the  English  consul,  he  does  some- 
thing ;  when  it  was  the  American,  I  pick  your  pargin,  my  lady, 
he  is  not  so  much  esteem  here." 

In  compliance  with  Achmed's  entreaty  a  note  was  written  to 
the  consul,  but  it  produced  no  effect,  except  an  uncivil  reply  that 
it  was  after  office  hours. 

When  I  returned,  Achmed  was  in  a  high  fever  of  excitement. 
He  believed  that  Abd-el-Atti  would  be  released  if  I  would  go 
personally  to  the  consul  and  insist  upon  it. 

"  The  consul,  I  do  not  know  what  kind  of  man  this  is  for  con- 
sul ;  does  he  know  Avhat  man  is  Abd-el-Atti  ?  Take  my  advice," 
continued  Achmed,  half  closing  his  eyes,  throwing  back  his  head 
and  moving  it  alertly  on  the  axis  of  his  neck,  and  making  at  the 
same  time  a  deprecatory  gesture  with  the  back  of  his  hands  turned 
out,  —  "  take  my  advice,  Mesr.  Vahl,  Abd-el-Atti  is  a  man  of  re- 
spect ;  he  is  a  man  very  rich,  God  forgive  me  !  Pirste-class  man. 
There  is  no  better  family  in  Egypt  than  Abd-el-Atti  Effendi. 
You  have  seen,  he  is  the  friend  of  governors  and  pashas.  There 
is  no  man  of  more  respect.  In  Cairo,  to  put  Abd-el-Atti  in  jail, 
they  would  not  believe  it !  When  he  is  at  home,  no  one  could 
do  it.  The  Khedive  himself,"  he  continued,  warming  with  his 
theme,  "  woidd  not  touch  Al'd-el-Atti.     He  has  houses  iu  the 


222  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

city  and  farms  and  plantations  in  the  country,  a  man  very  well 
known.  Who  in  Cairo  is  to  put  him  in  jail  ?  [This,  with  a  smile 
of  derision.]  I  think  he  take  out  and  put  in  prison  almost  any- 
body else  he  like,  Mohammed  Effendi  Abd-el-Atti.  See,  when 
this  Ouardy  comes  in  Egypt !  " 

We  hastened  to  the  consul's.  I  told  the  consul  that  I  was  de- 
prived of  the  service  of  my  dragoman,  that  he  was  unjustly  im- 
prisoned, simply  for  defending  himself  when  he  was  assailed  by  a 
lot  of  rowdies,  and  that  as  the  complaint  against  him  was  sup- 
posed to  issue  from  the  consulate,  I  doubted  not  that  the  consul's 
influence  could  release  him.  The  consul  replied,  with  suavity, 
that  he  had  nothing  to  do  Avith  the  quarrel  of  his  dragoman,  and 
was  not  very  well  informed  about  it,  only  he  knew  that  Ouardy 
had  been  outrageously  assaulted  and  beaten  by  Abd-el-Atti ;  that 
he  could  do  nothing  at  any  rate  with  the  pasha,  even  if  that  func- 
tionaiy  had  not  gone  to  his  harem  outside  the  city,  where  nobody 
would  disturb  him.  I  ventured  to  say  that  both  the  Ouardys  had 
a  very  bad  reputation  in  the  city,  —  it  was,  in  fact,  infamous,  —  and 
that  the  consulate  was  brought  into  contempt  by  them.  The  consul 
replied  that  the  reputation  of  Antoine  might  be  bad,  but  that  his 
dragoman  was  a  respectable  merchant ;  and  then  he  complained 
of  the  missionaries,  who  had  persecuted  him  ever  since  he  had 
been  in  Beyrout.  I  said  that  I  knew  nothing  of  his  grievances ; 
that  my  information  about  his  dragoman  came  from  general  re- 
port, and  from  some  of  the  bankers  and  most  respectable  citizens, 
and  that  I  knew  that  in  this  case  my  dragoman  had  been  set  upon 
in  the  first  instance,  and  that  it  was  believed  that  the  Ouardys 
were  now  attempting  to  extort  money  from  him,  knowing  him  to 
be  rich,  and  having  got  him  in  their  clutches  away  from  his 
friends.  The  consul  still  said  that  he  could  do  nothing  that 
in"ght ;  he  was  very  sorry,  very  sorry  for  my  embarrassment,  and 
he  would  send  for  Ouardy  and  advise  him  to  relinquish  his  pros- 
ecution on  my  account.  "Very  well,"  I  said,  rising  to  go,  "if 
you  cannot  help  me  I  must  go  elsewhere.  Will  you  give  me  a 
note  of  introduction  to  the  pasha  ?  "  He  would  do  that  with  pleas- 
ure, although  he  was  certain  that  nothing  would  come  of  it. 

Achmed,  who  had  been  impatiently  waiting  on  the  high  piazza 


INTERVIEW  WITH   THE   PASHA.  223 

(it  is  a  charming  situation  overlooking  the  Mediten'anean),  saw 
that  I  had  not  succeeded,  and  was  for  going  at  once  to  the  Eng- 
lish consul ;  for  all  dragomans  have  entire  confidence  that  English 
consuls  are  all-powerful. 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  we  will  try  the  pasha,  to  whom  I  have  a  letter, 
though  the  consul  says  the  pasha  is  a  friend  of  Ouardy." 

"  I  believe  you.  Ouardy  has  women  in  his  house  ;  the  pasha 
goes  often  there ;  so  I  hear.  But  we  will  go.  I  will  speak  to 
the  pasha  also,  and  tell  him  what  for  a  man  is  Abd-el-Atti.  A 
very  pleasant  man,  the  pasha,  and  speak  all  languages,  very  well 
English." 

It  was  encouraging  to  know  this,  and  I  began  to  feel  that  I 
could  make  some  impression  on  him.  We  took  a  carnage  and 
drove  into  the  suburbs,  to  the  house  of  the  pasha.  His  Excellency 
was  in  his  harem,  and  dining,  at  that  hour.  I  was  shown  by  a 
barefooted  servant  into  a  baiTcn  parlor  furnished  in  the  European 
style,  and  informed  that  the  pasha  would  see  me  presently.  After 
a  while  cigarettes  and  coffee — a  poor  substitute  for  dinner  for  a 
person  who  had  had  none  —  were  brought  in  ;  but  no  pasha. 
I  waited  there,  I  suppose,  nearly  an  hour  for  the  governor  to 
finish  his  dinner  ;  and  meantime  composed  a  complimentary  ora- 
tion to  deliver  upon  his  arrival.  When  his  Excellency  at  last 
appeared,  I  beheld  a  large,  sleek  Turk,  whose  face  showed  good- 
nature and  self-indulgence.  I  had  hopes  of  him,  and,  advancing 
to  salute  him,  began  an  apology  for  disturbing  his  repose  at  this 
unseasonable  hour,  but  his  Excellency  looked  perfectly  blank.  He 
did  not  understand  a  word  of  English.  I  gave  him  the  letter  of 
the  consul,  and  mentioned  the  name  "  American  Consul."  The 
pasha  took  the  letter  and  opened  it ;  but  as  he  was  diligently  ex- 
amining it  upside  down,  I  saw  that  he  did  not  read  English.  I 
must  introduce  myself. 

Opening  the  door,  I  called  Achmed.  In  coming  into  the 
presence  of  this  high  rank,  all  his  buoyancy  and  bravado  van- 
ished ;  he  obsequiously  waited.  I  told  him  to  say  to  his  Excel- 
lency how  extremely  son-y  I  was  to  disturb  his  repose  at  such  an 
unseasonable  horn*,  but  that  my  dragoman,  whose  services  I 
needed,  had  been  uiafortunately  locked  up  ;  that  I  was  an  Amer- 


224  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

ican  citizen,  as  he  woiild  perceive  by  the  letter  from  the  consul, 
and  that  I  would  detain  him  only  a  moment  with  my  business. 
Achmed  put  this  into  choice  Ai-abic.  His  Excellency  looked  more 
blank  than  before.  He  did  not  understand  a  word  of  Arabic. 
The  interview  was  getting  to  be  interesting. 

The  pasha  then  stepped  to  the  door  and  called  in  his  dragoman, 
a  barefooted  felloAV  in  a  tattered  gown.  The  two  interpreters 
stood  in  line  before  us,  and  the  pasha  nodded  to  me  to  begin.  I 
opened,  perhaps,  a  little  too  elaborately  ;  Achmed  put  my  remarks 
into  Arabic,  and  the  second  dragoman  translated  that  again  into 
Turkish.  What  the  speech  became  by  the  time  it  reached  the  ear 
of  the  pasha  I  could  not  tell,  but  his  face  darkened  at  once,  and 
he  peremptorily  shook  his  head.  The  word  came  back  to  me 
that  the  pasha  would  n't  let  him  out ;  Abd-el-Atti  must  stay  in 
jail  till  his  trial.  I  then  began  to  argue  the  matter,  —  to  say  that 
there  was  no  criminal  suit  against  him,  only  an  action  for  dam- 
ages, and  that  I  would  be  responsible  for  his  appearance  when 
required.  The  translations  were  made  ;  but  I  saw  that  I  was 
every  moment  losing  ground ;  no  one  could  tell  what  my  solici- 
tations became  after  being  strained  through  Arabic  and  Turkish. 
My  case  was  lost,  because  it  coidd  not  be  heard. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  pasha  might  know  some 
European  language.  I  turned  to  him,  and  asked  him  if  he  spoke 
German.  O,  yes  !  The  prospect  brightened,  and  if  I  also  had 
spoken  that  language,  we  should  have  had  no  further  trouble. 
However,  desperation  beat  up  my  misty  recollection,  and  I  gave 
the  pasha  a  torrent  of  broken  German  that  evidently  astonished 
him.  At  any  rate,  he  became  gracious  as  soon  as  he  understood 
me.  He  said  that  Abd-el-Atti  was  not  confined  on  account  of  the 
suit,  —  he  knew  nothing  and  cared  nothing  for  his  difficulty  with 
Ouardy,  —  but  for  his  contempt  of  the  police  and  soldiers.  I 
explained  that,  and  added  that  Abd-el-Atti  was  an  old  man,  that 
I  had  been  doctoring  him  for  a  fever  ever  since  we  were  in 
Damascus,  that  I  feared  to  have  him  stay  in  that  damp  jail  over 
Sunday,  and  that  I  would  be  responsible  for  his  appearance. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  asked,  "that  you  will  be  personally 
responsible  that  he  appears  at  the  seraglio  Monday  morning?  " 


THE  SERAGLIO.  225 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  "  for  his  appearance  at  any  time  and  place 
your  Excellency  may  name." 

"  Then  he  may  go."  He  gave  the  order  to  his  dragoman  to 
accompany  us  and  procure  his  release,  and  we  retired,  with  mu- 
tual protestations  of  the  highest  consideration.  Achmed  was 
nearly  beside  himself  with  joy.  The  horses  seemed  to  him  to 
crawl ;  he  could  n't  wait  the  moment  to  announce  to  Abd-el-Atti 
his  deliverance.  "  Ah,  they  thought  to  keep  Abd-el-Atti  in  jail 
all  night,  and  sent  word  to  Cairo,  '  Abd-el-Atti  is  in  jail.'  Abd- 
el-Atti  Effendi !     Take  my  advice,  a  man  of  respect." 

The  cobble-paved  court  of  the  old  seraglio  prison,  to  which 
the  guards  admitted  us  without  question,  was  only  dimly  lighted 
by  an  oil-lamp  or  two,  and  we  could  distinguish  a  few  figures 
flitting  about,  who  looked  like  malefactors,  but  were  probably 
keepers.  We  were  shown  into  a  side  room,  where  sat  upon  the 
ground  an  official,  perhaps  a  judge,  and  two  assistants.  Abd-el- 
Atti  was  sent  for.  The  old  man  was  brought  in,  swdnging  his 
string  of  beads  in  his  hand,  looking  somewhat  crest-fallen,  but 
preserving  a  portentous  gravity.  I  arose  and  shook  hands  with 
him,  and  told  him  we  had  come  to  take  him  out.  When  we  were 
seated,  a  discussion  of  the  case  sprung  up,  the  official  talked,  his 
two  assistants  talked,  and  Abd-el-Atti  and  Achmed  talked,  and 
there  was  evidently  a  disposition  to  go  over  the  affair  from  the 
beginning.  It  was  a  pity  to  cut  short  so  much  eloquence,  but  I 
asked  the  pasha's  dragoman  to  deliver  his  message,  and  told  Ach- 
med that  we  would  postpone  the  discussion  till  Monday,  and 
depart  at  once.  The  prisoner  was  released,  and,  declining  coffee, 
we  shook  hands  and  got  away  with  all  haste.  As  we  drove  to 
the  hotel,  Abd-el-Atti  was  somewhat  pensive,  but  declared  that 
he  would  rather  give  a  hundred  pounds  than  not  be  let  out  that 
night ;  and  when  we  reached  home,  Achmed,  whose  spirits  were 
exuberant,  insisted  on  dragging  him  to  the  cafi  opposite,  to  ex- 
hibit him  in  triumph. 

When  I  came  down  in  the  morning,  Achmed  was  in  the  hall. 

"  Well,  Achmed,  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Firste-class,"  closing  his  eyes  with  a  humorous  twinkle. 
"  I  'm  in  it  now." 

10*  o 


226  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

"  In  what  ?  " 

"  In  tlie  case  with  Mohammed  Abd-el-Atti.  That  Ouavdy 
says  I  pay  liim  damage  twenty  thousand  francs.  Twenty  thou- 
sand francs,  I  wish  he  may  get  it  !  How  much,  I  s'pose,  for 
the  consul  ?     Take  my  advice,  the  consul  want  money." 

"  Then  the  suit  will  keep  you  here  with  Abd-el-Atti  ?  " 

"  Keep,  I  don't  know.  I  not  pay  him  twenty  thousand  francs, 
not  one  thousand,  not  one  franc.  What  my  ladies  do  ?  Who  go 
to  Constantinople  with  my  ladies?  To-morrow  morning  come 
the  steamer.  To  leave  the  old  man  alone  with  these  thiefs,  what 
would  anybody  say  of  Mohammed  Achmed  for  that  ?  What  for 
consul  is  this  ?  I  want  to  go  to  Constantinople  with  my  ladies, 
and  then  to  see  my  family  in  Alexandria.  For  one  day  in  five 
months  have  I  see  ray  wife  and  shild.  O  yes,  I  have  very  nice 
wife.  Yes,  one  wife  quite  plenty  for  me.  And  I  have  a  fine 
house,  cost  me  twenty  thousand  dollars ;  I  am  not  rich,  but  I 
have  plenty,  God  forgive  me.  My  shop  is  in  the  silk  bazaar.  I 
am  merchant.  My  father-in-law  say  what  for  I  go  dragoman? 
I  like  to  see  nice  peoples  and  go  in  the  world.  When  I  am  drago- 
man, I  am  servant.  When  I  am  merchant,  0,  I  am  very  well  in 
Alexandria.  I  think  I  not  go  any  more.  Ah,  here  is  Abd-el- 
Atti.  Take  my  advice,  he  not  need  to  be  dragoman ;  he  is  pooty 
off.  Good  morning,  my  friend.  Have  they  told  you  I  am  to  be 
put  in  jail  also  ?  " 

"  So  I  hear ;  Ouardy  sue  you  and  Abdallah  so  you  cannot  be 
witness." 

"  0,  they  think  they  get  money  from  us.  Mebbe  the  pasha  and 
the  consul.     I  think  so." 

"So  am  I,"  responded  Abd-el-Atti  in  his  most  serious  man- 
ner. The  "  Eastern  question,"  with  these  experienced  drago- 
mans, instantly  resolves  itself  into  a  question  of  money,  whoever 
is  concerned  and  whatever  is  the  tribunal.  I  said  that  I  would 
see  the  consul  in  the  morning,  and  that  I  hoped  to  have  all  pro- 
ceedings stopped,  so  that  we  could  get  off  in  the  steamer.  Abd- 
el-Atti  shook  his  head. 

"  The  consul  not  to  do  anything.  Ouardy  have  lent  him 
money  ;  so  I  huuderstood." 


A  TURKISH   COURT.  227 

Beyrout  had  a  Sunday  appearance.  The  shops  were  nearly  all 
closed,  and  the  churches,  especially  the  Catholic,  were  crowded. 
It  might  have  been  a  peaceful  day  but  for  our  imbroglio,  which 
began  to  be  serious ;  we  could  not  affoi'd  the  time  to  wait  two 
weeks  for  the  next  Cyprus  steamer,  we  did  not  like  to  abandon 
our  dragomans,  and  we  needed  their  services.  The  ladies  who 
depended  upon  Achmed  were  in  a  quandary.  Notes  went  to  the 
consul,  but  produced  no  effect.  The  bankers  were  called  into  the 
council,  and  one  of  them  undertook  to  get  Achmed  free.  Travel- 
lers, citizens,  and  all  began  to  get  interested  or  entangled  in  the 
case.  There  was  among  respectable  people  but  one  opinion  about 
the  consul's  dragoman.  At  night  it  was  whispered  about  that  the 
American  consul  had  already  been  removed  and  that  his  successor 
was  on  his  way  to  Beyrout.  Achmed  came  to  us  in  the  highest 
spirits  with  the  news. 

All  day  Monday  we  expected  the  steamer.  The  day  was  frit- 
tered away  in  interviews  with  the  consul  and  the  pasha,  and  in 
endeavoring  to  learn  something  of  the  two  cases,  the  suit  for 
damages  and  for  the  debt,  supposed  to  be  going  on  somewhere  in 
the  seraglio.  After  ray  interview  mth  the  consul,  who  expressed 
considerable  ignorance  of  the  case  and  the  strongest  desire  to  stop 
it,  I  was  surprised  to  find  at  the  seraglio  all  the  papers  in  the 
consul's  narae,  and  all  the  documents  written  on  consular  paper ; 
so  that  when  I  appeared  as  an  American  citizen,  to  endeavor  to 
get  my  dragoman  released,  it  appeared  to  the  Turkisli  officials 
that  they  would  please  the  American  government  by  detaining 
and  punishing  him. 

The  court-room  was  a  little  upper  chamber,  with  no  furniture 
except  a  long  table  and  chairs  ;  three  Moslem  judges  sat  at  one 
end  of  the  table,  apparently  waiting  to  see  what  would  turn  up. 
The  scene  was  not  unlike  that  in  an  office  of  a  justice  of  the 
peace  in  America.  The  parties  to  the  case,  witnesses,  attendants, 
spectators,  came  and  went  as  it  pleased  them,  talked  or  whispei'ed 
to  the  judges  or  to  each  other.  There  seemed  to  be  no  rule  for 
the  reception  or  rejection  of  evidence.  The  judges  smoked  and 
gathered  the  facts  as  they  drifted  in,  and  would  by  and  by  make 
up  their  minds.     It  is  truth  to  say,  however,  that  they  seemed  to 


228  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

be  endeavoring  to  get  at  the  facts,  and  that  they  appeared  to  be 
above  prejudice  or  interest.  A  lu-w  complication  developed  itself, 
however;  Antoine  Ouardy  claimed  to  be  a  French  citizen,  and  the 
French  consul  was  drawn  into  the  fray.  This  was  a  new  device 
to  delay  proceedings. 

Wlien  I  had  given  my  evidence  to  the  judges,  which  I  was  re- 
quired to  put  in  writing,  I  went  with  Abd-el-Atti  to  the  room  of 
the  pasha.  This  official  was  gracious  enough,  but  gave  us  no 
hopes  of  release.  He  took  me  one  side  and  advised  me,  as  a 
traveller,  to  look  out  for  another  dragoman ;  there  was  no  pros- 
pect that  Abd-el-Atti  could  get  away  to  accompany  me  on  this 
steamer,  —  in  fact,  the  process  in  court  might  detain  him  six 
months.  However,  the  best  thing  to  do  would  be  to  go  to  the 
American  consul  with  Ouardy  and  settle  it.  He  thought  Ouardy 
would  settle  it  for  a  reasonable  amount.  It  was  none  of  his  busi- 
ness, but  that  was  his  advice.  We  were  obliged  to  his  Excellency 
for  this  glimpse  behind  the  scenes  of  a  Turkish  court,  and  thanked 
him  for  his  advice  ;  but  we  did  not  follow  it.  Abd-el-Atti  thought 
that  if  he  abandoned  the  attempt  to  collect  a  debt  in  a  Turkish 
city,  he  ought  not,  besides,  to  pay  for  the  prinlege  of  doing  so. 

Tuesday  morning  the  steamer  came  into  the  harbor.  Although 
we  had  registered  our  names  at  the  office  of  the  company  for  pas- 
sage, nothing  was  reserved  for  us.  Detained  at  the  seraglio  and  the 
consul's,  we  could  not  go  off  to  secure  places,  and  the  consequence 
was  that  wc  were  subject  to  the  black-mail  of  the  steward  when 
we  did  go.  By  noon  there  were  signs  of  the  failure  of  the  prose- 
cution ;  and  we  sent  off  our  luggage.  In  an  hour  or  two  Abd-el- 
Atti  appeared  with  a  troop  of  friends,  triumphant.  Somewhere, 
I  do  not  know  how,  he  and  Achmed  had  raked  up  fourteen  wit- 
nesses in  his  favor ;  the  judges  would  n't  believe  Ouardy  nor  any 
one  he  produced,  and  his  case  had  utterly  broken  down.  This 
mountain  of  a  case,  which  had  arinoyed  us  so  many  days  and 
jfbsorbed  our  time,  suddenly  collapsed.  We  were  not  sorry  to 
leave  even  beautiful  Beyrout,  and  would  have  liked  to  sec  the  last 
of  Turkish  nde  as  well.  At  sunset,  on  the  steamer  Jrhille, 
swarming  above  and  below  with  pilgrims  from  Jerusalem  and 
Mecca,  we  sailed  for  Cyprus. 


I 


XVIII. 

CYPRUS. 


IN  the  early  morning  we  Avere  off  Cyprus,  in  the  open  harbor 
of  Lamaka,  —  a  row  of  white  houses  on  the  low  shore.  The 
town  is  not  peculiar  and  not  specially  attractive,  but  the  Marina 
lies  prettily  on  the  blue  sea,  and  the  palms,  the  cypresses,  the 
minarets  and  church-towers,  form  an  agreeable  picture  behind  it, 
backed  by  the  lovely  outline  of  mountains,  conspicuous  among 
them  Santa  Croce.  The  highest,  Olympus,  cannot  be  seen  from 
this  point. 

A  night  had  sufficed  to  transport  us  into  another  world,  a 
world  in  which  all  outlines  are  softened  and  colored,  a  world  in 
which  history  appears  like  romance.  "We  might  have  imagined 
that  we  had  sailed  into  some  tropical  harbor,  except  that  the 
island  before  us  was  bare  of  foliage ;  there  was  the  calm  of  per- 
fect repose  in  the  sky,  on  the  sea,  and  the  land ;  Cyprus  made  no 
harsh  contrast  with  the  azure  water  in  which  it  seemed  to  be  an- 
chored for  the  morning,  as  our  ship  was.  You  could  believe  that 
the  calm  of  summer  and  of  early  morning  always  rested  on  the 
island,  and  that  it  slept  exhausted  in  the  memory  of  its  glorious 
past. 

Taking  a  cup  of  coffee,  we  rowed  ashore.  It  was  the  festival 
of  St.  George,  and  the  flags  of  various  nations  were  hung  out 
along  the  riva,  or  displayed  from  the  staflFs  of  the  consular  resi- 
dences. It  is  one  of  the  chief  fete  days  of  the  year,  and  the 
foreign  representatives,  who  have  not  too  much  excitement,  cele- 
brated it  by  formal  visits  to  the  Greek  consul.  Larnaka  does  not 
keep  a  liotel,  and  we  wandered  about  for  some  time  before  we 


230  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

could  discover  its  sole  locanda,  where  we  purposed  to  breakfast. 
This  establishment  would  please  an  artist,  but  it  had  few  attrac- 
tions for  a  person  wishing  to  break  his  fast,  and  our  unusual  de- 
mand threw  it  into  confusion.  The  locanda  was  nothing  but  a 
kitchen  in  a  tumble-down  building,  smoke-di*ied,  with  an  earth 
floor  and  a  rickety  table  or  two.  After  long  delay,  the  cheer- 
ful Greek  proprietor  and  his  lively  wife  —  whose  good-humored 
willingness  both  to  furnish  us  next  to  nothing,  but  the  best  they 
had,  from  their  scanty  larder,  and  to  cipher  up  a  long  reckoning 
for  the  same,  excited  our  interest — produced  some  fried  veal,  sour 
bread,  harsh  wine,  and  tart  oranges ;  and  we  breakfasted  more 
sumptuously,  I  have  no  doubt,  than  any  natives  of  the  island  that 
morning.  The  scant  and  hard  fare  of  nearly  all  the  common 
people  in  the  East  would  be  unendurable  to  any  American ;  but 
I  think  that  the  hardy  peasantry  of  the  Levant  would  speedily 
fall  into  dyspeptic  degeneracy  upon  the  introduction  of  American 
rural  cooking. 

After  we  had  killed  our  appetites  at  the  locanda,  we  presented 
our  letters  to  the  American  consul,  General  di  Cesnola,  in  whose 
spacious  residence  we  experienced  a  delightful  mingling  of 
Oriental  and  Western  hospitality.  The  kawass  of  the  General 
was  sent  to  show  us  the  town.  This  kawass  was  a  gorgeous 
official,  a  kind  of  glorified  being,  in  silk  and  gold-lace,  who 
marched  before  us,  huge  in  bulk,  waving  his  truncheon  of  office, 
and  gave  us  the  appearance,  in  spite  of  our  humility,  of  a  tri- 
umphal procession.  Larnaka  has  not  many  sights,  although  it 
was  the  residence  of  the  Lusignan  dynasty,  —  Richard  Coeur  de 
Lion  having,  toward  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century,  made  a 
gift  of  the  island  to  Guy  de  Lusignan.  It  has,  however,  some 
mosques  and  Greek  churches.  The  church  of  St.  Lazarus,  which 
contains  the  now  vacant  tomb  of  the  Lazarus  who  was  raised 
from  the  dead  at  Bethany  and  afterwards  became  bishop  of 
Citium,  is  an  interesting  old  Byzantine  edifice,  and  has  attached 
to  it  an  English  burial-ground,  with  tombs  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  The  Greek  priest  who  showed  \is  the  church  does  not 
lose  sight  of  the  gain  of  godliness  in  this  life  while  pursuing  in 
this  remote  station  his  heavenly  journey.      He  sold  my  friend 


THE  BIBLE   CHITTIM.  231 

some  exquisite  old  crucifixes,  carved  in  wood,  mounted  in  antique 
silver,  which  he  took  from  the  altar,  and  he  let  the  church  part 
wiih  some  ot  its  quaint  old  pictures,  commemorating  the  impos- 
sible exploits  of  St.  Demetrius  and  St.  George.  But  he  was  very 
careful  that  none  of  the  Greeks  who  were  lounging  about  the 
church  should  be  witnesses  of  the  transfer.  He  said  that  these 
ignorant  people  had  a  prejudice  about  these  sacred  objects,  and 
might  make  trouble. 

The  excavations  made  at  Larnaka  have  demonstrated  that  this 
was  the  site  of  ancient  Citium,  the  birthplace  of  Zeno,  the  Stoic, 
and  the  Chittim  so  often  alluded  to  by  the  Hebrew  prophets  ;  it 
was  a  Phoenician  colony,  and  when  Ezekiel  foretold  the  unrecover- 
able fall  of  Tyre,  among  the  luxuries  of  Avealth  he  enumerated 
were  the  "  benches  of  ivory  brought  out  of  the  isles  of  Chittim." 
Paul  does  not  mention  it,  but  he  must  have  passed  through  it 
when  he  made  his  jo\;niey  over  the  island  from  Salamis  to  Paphos, 
where  he  had  his  famous  encounter  with  the  sorcerer  Bar-jesus. 
A  few  miles  out  of  town  on  the  road  to  Citti  is  a  Turkish  mosque, 
which  shares  the  high  veneration  of  Moslems  with  those  of  Mecca 
and  Jerusalem.     In  it  is  inten-ed  the  wet-nurse  of  Mohammed. 

We  walked  on  out  of  the  town  to  the  most  considerable  church 
in  the  place,  newly  built  by  the  Eoman  Catholics.  There  is  at- 
tached to  it  a  Franciscan  convent,  a  neat  establishment  with  a 
garden ;  and  the  hospitable  monks,  when  they  knew  we  were 
Americans,  insisted  upon  entertaining  us  ;  the  contributions  for 
their  church  had  largely  come  from  America,  they  said,  and  they 
seemed  to  regard  us  as  among  the  number  of  their  benefactors. 
This  Christian  charity  expressed  itself  also  in  some  bunches  of 
roses,  which  the  brothers  plucked  for  our  ladies.  One  cannot  but 
suspect  and  respect  that  timid  sentiment  the  monk  retains  for  the 
sex  whose  faces  he  flies  from,  which  he  expresses  in  the  care  of 
flowers ;  the  blushing  rose  seems  to  be  the  pure  and  only  link 
between  the  monk  and  womankind ;  he  may  cultivate  it  without 
sin,  and  offer  it  to  the  chance  visitor  without  scandal. 

The  day  was  lovely,  but  the  sun  had  intense  power,  and  in  de- 
fault of  donkeys  we  took  a  private  carriage  into  the  country  to 
visit  the  church  of  St.  George,  at  which  ihtfete  day  of  that  saint 


232  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

was  celebrated  by  a  fair,  and  a  concourse  of  peasants.  Our  car- 
riage was  a  four-wheeled  cart,  a  sort  of  hay-wagon,  drawn  by  two 
steers,  and  driven  by  a  Greek  boy  in  an  embroidered  jacket.  The 
Franciscans  lent  us  chairs  for  the  cart ;  the  resplendent  kawass 
marched  ahead ;  Abd-el-Atti  hung  his  legs  over  the  tail  of  the 
cart  in  an  attitude  of  dejection;  and  Ave  moved  on,  but  so  slowly 
that  my  English  friend,  Mr.  Edward  Rae,  was  able  to  sketch  us, 
and  the  Cyprians  could  enjoy  the  spectacle. 

The  country  lay  bare  and  blinking  under  the  sun  ;  save  here 
and  there  a  palm  or  a  bunch  of  cypresses,  this  part  of  the  island 
has  not  a  tree  or  a  large  shrub.  The  view  of  the  town  and  the 
sea  with  its  boats,  as  we  went  inland,  was  peculiar,  not  anything 
real,  but  a  skeleton  picture ;  the  sky  and  sea  were  indigo  blue. 
We  found  a  crowd  of  peasants  at  the  church  of  St.  George,  which 
has  a  dirty  interior,  like  all  the  Greek  churches.  The  Greeks,  as 
well  as  the  other  Orientals,  know  how  to  .mingle  devotion  with 
the  profits  of  trade,  and  while  there  were  rows  of  booths  outside, 
and  traffic  went  on  briskly,  the  church  was  thronged  with  men 
and  women  who  bought  tapers  for  offerings,  and  kissed  with 
fervor  the  holy  relics  which  were  exposed.  The  articles  for  sale 
at  the  booths  and  stands  were  chiefly  eatables  and  the  coarsest 
sort  of  merchandise.  The  only  specialty  of  native  manufacture 
was  rude  but  pleasant-sounding  little  bells,  which  are  sometimes 
strung  upon  the  necks  of  donkeys.  But  so  fond  are  these  simple 
people  of  musical  noise,  that  these  bells  are  attached  to  the  handles 
of  sickles  also.  The  barley  was  already  dead-ripe  in  the  fields, 
and  many  of  the  peasants  at  the  fair  brought  their  sickles  with 
them.  They  were,  both  men  and  women,  a  good-humored,  primi- 
tive sort  of  people,  certainly  not  a  handsome  race,  but  picturesque 
in  appearance  ;  both  sexes  affect  high  colors,  and  the  bright  petti- 
coats of  the  women  matched  the  gay  jackets  of  their  husbands  and 
lovers. 

We  do  not  know  what  was  the  ancient  standard  of  beauty  in 
Cyprus  ;  it  may  have  been  no  higher  than  it  is  now,  and  perliaps 
the  swains  at  this  fete  of  St.  George  would  turn  from  any  other 
type  of  female  charms  as  uninviting.  The  Cyprian  or  Paphian 
Venus  could  not  have  been  a  beautv  according  to  our  notions- 


THE  PAPHIAN  VENUS.  233 

The  images  of  lier  which  General  di  Cesnola  found  in  her  temple  all 
have  a  long  and  sharp  nose.  These  images  are  Phoenician,  and 
were  made  six  hundred  to  a  thousand  years  befoi'e  the  Christian 
era,  at  the  time  that  wonderful  people  occupied  this  fertile  island. 
It  is  an  interesting  fact,  and  an  extraordinary  instance  of  the  per- 
sistence of  nature  in  perpetuating  a  type,  that  aU  the  women  of 
Cyprus  to-day — who  are,  with  scarcely  any  exception,  ugly  —  have 
exactly  the  nose  of  the  ancient  Paphian  Venus,  that  is  to  say,  the 
nose  of  the  Phoenician  women  whose  husbands  and  lovers  sailed 
the  Mediterranean  as  long  ago  as  the  siege  of  Troy. 

It  was  off  the  southern  coast  of  this  island,  near  Paphos,  that 
Venus  Aphrodite,  born  of  the  foam,  is  fabled  to  have  risen  from 
the  sea.  The  anniversary  of  her  birth  is  still  perpetuated  by  an 
annual /f'^e  on  the  11th  of  August,  —  a  rite  having  its  foundation 
in  nature,  that  has  proved  to  be  stronger  than  religious  instruc- 
tion or  prejudice.  Originally,  these  fetes  were  the  scenes  of  a  too 
literal  worship  of  Venus,  and  even  now  the  Cyprian  maiden  thinks 
that  her  chance  of  matrimony  is  increased  by  her  attendance  at 
this  annual  fair.  Upon  that  day  aU  the  young  people  go  upon 
the  sea  in  small  boats,  and,  until  recently,  it  used  to  be  the  custom 
to  dip  a  virgin  into  the  water  in  remembrance  oi  the  mystic  birth 
of  Venus.  That  ceremony  is  still  partially  maintained ;  instead 
of  sousing  the  maiden  in  the  sea,  her  companions  spatter  the 
representative  of  the  goddess  with  salt  water,  —  immersion  has 
given  way  here  also  to  sprinkling. 

The  lively  curiosity  of  the  world  has  been  of  late  years  turned 
to  Cyprus  as  the  theatre  of  some  of  the  most  important  and 
extensive  archaeological  discoveries  of  this  century ;  discoveries 
unique,  and  illustrative  of  the  manners  and  religion  of  a  race, 
once  the  most  civilized  in  the  Levant,  of  which  only  the  slightest 
monuments  had  hitherto  been  discovered ;  discoveries  which 
supply  the  lost  link  between  Egyptian  and  Grecian  art.  These 
splendid  results,  which  by  a  stroke  of  good  fortune  confer  some 
credit  upon  the  American  nation,  are  wholly  due  to  the  scholar- 
ship, patient  industry,  address,  and  enthusiasm  of  one  man.  To 
those  who  are  familiar  with  the  magnificent  Cesnola  Collection, 
which  is  the  chief  attraction  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  New 


234  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

York,  I  need  make  no  apology  for  devoting  a  few  paragraphs  to 
the  antiquities  of  Cyprus  and  their  explorer. 

Cyprus  was  the  coveted  prize  of  all  the  conquerors  of  the 
Orient  in  turn.  The  fair  island,  with  an  area  not  so  large  as  the 
State  of  Connecticut,  owns  in  its  unequal  surface  the  exti^emes 
of  the  temperate  climate ;  snow  lies  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
year  upon  its  mountains,  which  attain  an  altitude  of  over  seven 
thousand  feet,  and  the  palm  spreads  its  fan-leaves  along  the 
southern  coast  and  in  the  warm  plains ;  irregular  in  shape,  it  has 
an  extreme  length  of  over  one  hundred  and  forty  miles,  and  an 
average  breadth  of  about  forty  miles,  and  its  deeply  indented  coast 
gives  an  extraordinarily  long  shore-line  and  offers  the  facilities 
of  harbors  for  the  most  active  commerce. 

The  maritime  Phoenicians  early  discovered  its  advantages,  and 
in  the  seventeenth  century  b.  c,  or  a  little  later,  a  colony  from 
Sidon  settled  at  Citium ;  and  in  time  these  Yankees  of  the  Levant 
occupied  all  the  southern  portion  of  the  island  with  their  busy 
ports  and  royal  cities.  There  is  a  tradition  that  Teucer,  after 
the  Trojan  war,  founded  the  city  of  Salamis  on  the  east  coast. 
But  however  this  may  be,  and  whatever  may  be  the  exact  date 
of  the  advent  of  the  Sidonians  upon  the  island,  it  is  tolerably 
certain  that  they  were  in  possession  about  the  year  1600  B.  c, 
when  the  nav}'  of  Thotmes  III.,  the  greatest  conqueror  and  states- 
man in  the  long  line  of  Pharaohs,  visited  Cyprus  and  collected 
tribute.  The  Egyptians  were  never  sailors,  and  the  fleet  of 
Thotmes  III.  was  no  doubt  composed  of  Phoenician  ships  manned 
by  Phoenician  sailors.  He  was  already  in  possession  of  the  whole 
of  SjTia,  the  Phoenicians  were  his  tributaries  and  allies,  their 
ships  alone  sailed  the  Grecian  seas  and  carried  the  products  of 
Egypt  and  of  Asia  to  the  Pelasgic  populations.  The  Phoenician 
supremacy,  established  by  Sidon  in  Cyprus,  was  maintained  by 
Tyre;  and  it  was  not  seriously  subverted  until  708  B.  c,  when 
the  Assyrian  ravager  of  Syria,  Sargon,  sent  a  fleet  and  conquered 
Cyprus.  He  set  up  a  stele  in  Citium,  commemorating  his  exploit, 
which  has  been  preserved  and  is  now  in  the  museum  at  Berlin. 
Two  centuries  later  the  island  owned  the  Persians  as  masters, 
and  was  comprised  in  the  fifth  satrapy  of  Darius.     It  became  a 


GENERAL  DI  CESNOLA,  THE  EXPLORER.  235 

part  of  the  empire  of  the  Macedonian  Alexander  after  his  con- 
quest of  Asia  Minor,  and  was  again  an  Egyptian  province  under 
the  Ptolemies,  until  the  Eomau  eagles  swooped  doAvn  upon  it. 
Coins  are  not  seldom  found  that  tell  the  stoiy  of  these  occupa- 
tions. Those  bearing  the  head  of  Ptolemy  Physcon,  Euergetes 
VII.,  found  at  Paphos  and  undoubtedly  struck  there,  w'itness  the 
residence  on  the  island  of  that  licentious  and  literary  tyrant, 
whom  a  popular  outburst  had  banished  from  Alexandria.  Another 
■with  the  head  of  Vespasian,  and  on  the  obverse  an  outline  of  the 
temple  of  Venus  at  Paphos,  attests  the  Eoman  hospitality  to  the 
gods  and  religious  rites  of  all  their  conquered  provinces. 

Upon  the  breaking  up  of  the  Eoman  world,  Cyprus  fell  to  the 
Greek  Empire,  and  for  centuries  maintained  under  its  ducal  gov- 
ernors a  sort  of  independent  life,  enjoying  as  much  prosperity  as 
was  possible  under  the  almost  uniform  imbecility  and  corruption  of 
the  Byzantine  ride.  We  have  already  spoken  of  its  transfer  to  the 
Lusignans  by  Eichard  Cceur  de  Lion;  and  again  a  romantic  chapter 
was  added  to  its  history  by  the  reign  of  Queen  Catharine  Cornaro, 
who  gave  her  kingdom  to  the  Venetian  republic.  Since  its  final 
conquest  by  the  Turks  in  1571,  Cyprus  has  interested  the  world 
only  by  its  sufferings  ;  for  Turkish  history  here,  as  elsewhere,  is 
little  but  a  record  of  exactions,  rapine,  and  massacre. 

From  time  to  time  during  the  present  century  efforts  have 
been  made  by  individuals  and  by  learned  societies  to  explore  the 
antiquities  of  Cyprus  ;  but  although  many  interesting  discoveries 
were  made,  yet  the  field  was  comparatively  virgin  when  General 
di  Cesnola  was  appointed  American  consul  in  1866.  Here  and 
there  a  stele,  or  some  fragments  of  pottery,  or  the  remains  of  a 
temple,  had  been  unearthed  by  chance  or  by  superficial  search, 
but  the  few  objects  discovered  served  only  to  pique  curiosity. 
Por  one  reason  or  another,  the  efforts  made  to  establish  the  site 
of  ancient  cities  had  been  abandoned,  the  expeditions  sent  out 
by  France  had  been  comparatively  baiTen  of  results,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  the  traces  of  the  occupation  of  the  Phoenicians,  the  Egyp- 
tians, the  AssjTians,  the  Persians,  and  the  Eomans  were  irrecover- 
ably concealed. 

General  L.  P.  di  Cesnola,  the  explorer  of  Cyprus,  is  of  a  noble 


236  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Piedmontese  family;  lie  received  a  military  and  classical  education 
at  Turin ;  identified  with  the  party  of  Italian  unity,  his  sympa- 
thies were  naturally  excited  by  the  contest  in  America ;  he  offered 
his  sword  to  our  government,  and  served  with  distinction  in  the 
war  for  the  Union.  At  its  close  he  was  appointed  consul  at 
Cyprus,  a  position  of  no  pecuniary  attraction,  but  I  presume  that 
the  new  consul  had  in  view  the  explorations  which  have  given  his 
name  such  honorable  celebrity  in  both  hemispheres. 

The  difficulties  of  his  undertaking  were  many.  He  had  to  en- 
counter at  every  step  the  jealousy  of  the  Turkish  government,  and 
the  fanaticism  and  superstition  of  the  occupants  of  the  soil. 
Archaeological  researches  are  not  easy  in  the  East  under  the  most 
favorable  circumstances,  and  in  places  where  the  traces  of  ancient 
habitations  are  visible  above  ground,  and  ancient  sites  are  known  ; 
but  in  Cyprus  no  ruins  exist  in  sight  to  aid  the  explorer,  and, 
with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  localities,  no  names  of  ancient 
places  are  known  to  the  present  generation.  But  the  consul  was 
convinced  that  the  great  powers  which  had  from  age  to  age  held 
Cj-prus  must  have  left  some  traces  of  their  occupation,  and  that 
intelligent  search  would  discover  the  ruins  of  the  prosperous 
cities  described  by  Strabo  and  mentioned  by  the  geographer 
Ptolemy.  Without  other  guides  than  the  descriptions  of  these 
and  other  ancient  writers,  the  consul  began  his  search  in  1867, 
and  up  to  1875  he  had  ascertained  the  exact  sites  of  eleven  ancient 
cities  mentioned  by  Strabo  and  Ptolemy,  most  of  which  had 
ceased  to  exist  before  the  Christian  era,  and  none  of  which  has 
left  vestiges  above  the  soil. 

In  the  time  of  David  and  of  Solomon  the  Phoenicians  formed 
the  largest  portion  of  the  population  of  the  island ;  their  royal 
cities  of  Paphos,  Amathus,  Carpassa,  Citium,  and  Ammochosto, 
were  in  the  most  flourishing  condition.  Not  a  stone  remained  of 
them  above  ground;  their  sites  were  unknown  in  1867. 

When  General  di  Cesnola  had  satisfied  himself  of  the  probable 
site  of  an  ancient  city  or  temple,  it  was  difficult  to  obtain  per- 
mission to  dig,  even  with  the  authority  of  the  Sultan's  finnan. 
He  was  obliged  to  wait  for  harvests  to  be  gathered,  in  some 
cases,  to  take  a  lease  of  the  ground  ;  sometimes  the  religious  fanat- 


CESNOLA'S  EXPLORATIONS.  237 

icism  of  the  occupants  coiild  not  be  overcome,  and  his  working 
parties  were  frequently  beaten  and  driven  away  in  his  absence. 
But  the  consul  exhibited  tact,  patience,  energy,  the  qualities  ne- 
cessary, with  knowledge,  to  a  successful  explorer.  He  evaded  or 
cast  down  all  obstacles. 

In  1868  he  discovered  the  necropoli  of  Ledra,  Citium,  and 
Idalium,  and  opened  during  three  years  in  these  localities  over  ten 
thousand  tombs,  bringing  to  light  a  mass  of  ancient  objects  of 
art  which  enable  us  to  understand  the  customs,  religion,  and  civil- 
ization of  the  earlier  inhabitants.  Idalium  was  famous  of  old  as 
the  place  where  Grecian  pottery  was  first  made,  and  fragments  of 
it  have  been  found  from  time  to  time  on  its  site. 

In  1869  and  1870  he  surveyed  Aphrodisium,  in  the  northeast- 
ern part  of  the  island,  and  ascertained,  in  the  interior,  the  site  of 
Golgos,  a  city  known  to  have  been  in  existence  before  the  Trojan 
war.  The  disclosures  at  this  place  excited  both  the  wonder  and 
the  incredulity  of  the  civilized  world,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
marvellous  collection  of  the  explorer  was  exhibited,  partially  in 
London,  but  fully  in  New  York,  that  the  vast  importance  of  the 
labors  of  General  di  Cesnola  began  to  be  comprehended.  In 
exploring  the  necropolis  of  Golgos,  he  came,  a  few  feet  below  the 
soil,  upon  the  remains  of  the  temple  of  Venus,  strewn  with 
mutilated  sculptures  of  the  highest  interest,  supplying  the  miss- 
ing link  between  Egyptian  and  Greek  art,  and  indeed  illustrating 
the  artistic  condition  of  most  of  the  Mediterranean  nations  dur- 
ing the  period  from  about  1200  to  about  500  B.  c.  It  would 
require  too  much  space  to  tell  how  the  British  Museum  missed 
and  the  Metropolitan  of  New  York  secured  this  first  priceless 
"  Cesnola  Collection."  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  it  was  sold  to  a 
generous  citizen  of  New  York,  Mr.  John  Taylor  Johnson,  for  fifty 
thousand  dollars,  —  a  sum  which  would  not  compensate  the  ex- 
plorer for  his  time  and  labor,  and  would  little  more  than  repay  his 
pecuniary  outlay,  which  reached  the  amount  of  over  sixty  thousand 
dollars  in  1875.  But  it  was  enough  that  the  treasure  was  secured 
by  his  adopted  country  ;  the  loss  of  it  to  the  Old  World,  which 
was  publicly  called  an  "  European  misfortune,"  was  a  piece  of 
good  fortune  to  the  United  States,  which  time  will  magnify. 


238  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

From  1870  to  1872  the  General's  attention  was  directed  to  the 
southwestern  portion  of  the  island,  and  he  laid  open  the  necrop- 
oli  of  Marium,  Paphos,  Alamas,  and  Soli,  and  three  ancient  cities 
whose  names  are  yet  unknown.  In  1873  he  explored  and  traced 
the  cities  of  Throni,  Leucolla,  and  Arsinoe,  and  the  necropoli  of 
several  towns  still  unknown.  In  1874  and  1875  he  brought  to 
light  the  royal  cities  of  Amathus  and  Curium,  and  located  the 
little  town  of  Kury. 

It  would  not  be  possible  here  to  enumerate  all  the  objects  of 
art  or  worship,  and  of  domestic  use,  which  these  excavations  have 
yielded.  The  statuary  and  the  thousands  of  pieces  of  glass,  some 
of  them  rivalling  the  most  perfect  Grecian  shapes  in  form,  and 
excelling  the  Venetian  colors  in  the  iridescence  of  age,  perhaps 
attract  most  attention  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum.  From  the 
tombs  were  taken  thousands  of  vases  of  earthenware,  some  in 
alabaster  and  bronze,  statuettes  in  terra-cotta,  arms,  coins,  scara- 
baei,  cylinders,  intaglios,  cameos,  gold  ornaments,  and  mortuary 
steles.  In  the  temples  were  brought  to  light  inscriptions,  bas- 
reliefs,  architectural  fragments,  and  statues  of  the  different  na- 
tions who  have  conquered  and  occupied  the  island.  The  inscrip- 
tions are  in  the  Egyptian,  Assyrian,  Phoenician,  Greek,  and  the 
Cypriote  languages ;  the  last-mentioned  being,  in  the  opinion  of 
the  explorer,  an  ancient  Greek  dialect. 

At  Curium,  nineteen  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  ground,  were 
found  the  remains  of  the  Temple  of  Apollo  Hylates ;  the  sculp- 
tures contained  in  it  belong  to  the  Greek  period  from  700  to  100 
B.  c.  At  Amathus  some  royal  tombs  were  opened,  and  two 
marble  sarcophagi  of  large  dimensions,  one  of  them  intact,  were 
discovered,  which  are  historically  important,  and  positive  additions 
to  the  remains  of  the  best  Greek  art. 

After  Golgos,  Paleo  Paphos  yielded  the  most  interesting  treas- 
ures. Here  existed  a  temple  to  the  Paphian  Venus,  whose  birth- 
place was  in  sight  of  its  portals,  famous  throughout  the  East ; 
devotees  and  pilgrims  constantly  resorted  to  it,  as  they  do  now  to 
the  shrines  of  Mecca  and  Jerusalem.  Not  only  the  maritime 
adventurers  and  traders  from  Asia  Minor  and  the  Grecian  main- 
land crowded  to  the  temple  of  this  pleasing  and  fortunate  god- 


A  MAGNIFICENT  TREASURE.  239 

dess,  and  quitted  their  vows  or  propitiated  her  favor  by  gifts, 
but  the  religious  or  the  superstitious  from  Persia  and  Assyria  and 
farthest  Egypt  deposited  there  theii"  votive  offerings.  The  collector 
of  a  museum  of  antiquity  that  shoidd  illustrate  the  manners  and 
religion  of  the  thousand  years  before  the  Christian  era  could  ask 
nothing  better  than  these  deposits  of  many  races  during  inany 
centuries  in  one  place. 

The  excavations  at  Paphos  were  attended  with  considerable 
danger ;  more  than  once  the  workmen  were  obliged  to  flee  to 
save  their  lives  from  the  fanatic  Moslems.  The  town,  although 
it  has  lost  its  physical  form,  and  even  its  name  (its  site  is  now 
called  Baffo),  retains  the  character  of  superstition  it  had  when  St. 
Paul  found  it  expedient  to  darken  the  vision  of  Elymas  there,  as 
if  a  city,  like  a  man,  possessed  a  soul  that  outlives  the  body. 

We  spent  the  afternoon  in  examining  the  new  collection  of 
General  di  Cesnola,  not  so  large  as  that  in  the  Meti'opolitan 
Museum,  but  perhaps  richer  in  some  respects,  particularly  in 
iridescent  glass. 

In  the  summer  of  1875,  however,  the  labors  of  the  indefati- 
gable explorer  were  crowned  with  a  discovery  the  riches  of  which 
cast  into  the  shade  the  real  or  pretended  treasures  of  the  "  House 
of  Priam,"  —  a  discovery  not  certainly  of  more  value  to  art  than 
those  that  preceded  it,  but  well  calculated  to  excite  popular 
wonder.  The  finding  of  this  subteiTanean  hoard  reads  like  an 
adventure  of  Aladdin. 

In  pursuing  his  researches  at  Curium,  on  the  southwestern 
side  of  the  island.  General  di  Cesnola  came  upon  the  site  of  an 
ancient  temple,  and  uncovered  its  broken  mosaic  pavement.  Be- 
neath this,  and  at  the  depth  of  twenty-five  feet,  he  broke  into  a 
subterranean  passage  cut  in  the  rock.  This  passage  led  to  a 
door ;  no  genie  sat  by  it,  but  it  was  securely  closed  by  a  stone 
slab.  When  this  was  removed,  a  suite  of  four  rooms  was  dis- 
closed, but  they  were  not  immediately  accessible;  earth  sifting 
through  the  roofs  for  ages  had  filled  them,  and  it  required  the 
labor  of  a  month  to  clean  out  the  chambers.  Imagine  the  fever- 
ish enthusiasm  of  the  explorer  as  he  slowly  penetrated  this 
treasure-house,  where  every  stroke  of  the  pick  disclosed  the  gleam 


240  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

of  buried  treasure  !  In  the  first  room  were  found  only  gold  ob- 
jects ;  in  the  second  only  silver  and  silver-gilt  ornaments  and 
utensils ;  in  the  third  alabasters,  terra-cottas,  vases,  and  groups 
of  figures ;  in  the  fourth  bronzes,  and  nothing  else.  It  is  the 
opinion  of  the  discoverer  that  these  four  rooms  were  the  deposi- 
tories where  the  crafty  priests  and  priestesses  of  the  old  temple 
used  to  hide  their  treasures  during  times  of  war  or  sudden  in- 
vasion. I  cannot  but  think  that  the  mysterious  subterranean 
passages  and  chambers  in  the  ancient  temples  of  Egypt  served  a 
similar  purpose.  The  treasure  found  scattered  in  these  rooms 
did  not  appear  to  be  the  whole  belonging  to  the  temple,  but  only 
a  part,  left  perhaps  in  the  confusion  of  a  hasty  flight. 

Among  the  articles  found  in  the  first  room,  dumped  in  a  heap 
in  the  middle  (as  if  they  had  been  suddenly,  in  a  panic,  stripped 
from  the  altar  in  the  temple  and  cast  into  a  place  of  concealment), 
were  a  gold  cup  covered  with  Egyptian  embossed  work,  and  two 
bracelets  of  pure  gold  weighing  over  three  pounds,  inscribed  with 
the  name  of  "  Etevander,  King  of  Paphos."  This  king  lived  in 
635  B.  c,  and  in  620  B.  c.  paid  tribute  to  the  Assyrian  monarch 
Assurbanapal  (Sardanapalus),  as  is  recorded  on  an  Assyrian  tablet 
now  in  the  British  Museum.  There  were  also  many  gold  neck- 
laces, bracelets,  ear-rings,  finger-rings,  brooches,  seals,  armlets, 
etc.,  in  all  four  hundred  and  eighty  gold  articles. 

In  the  silver-room,  arranged  on  the  benches  at  the  sides,  were 
vases,  bottles,  cups,  bowls,  bracelets,  finger-rings,  ear-rings, 
seals,  etc.  One  of  the  most  curious  and  valuable  objects  is  a 
silver-gilt  bowl,  having  upon  it  very  fine  embossed  Egyptian 
work,  and  evidently  of  high  antiquity. 

In  the  third  room  of  vases  and  teiTa-cottas  were  some  most  val- 
uable and  interesting  specimens.  The  bronze -room  yielded  sev- 
eral high  candelabra,  lamp-holders,  lamps,  statuettes,  buUs'-heads, 
bowls,  vases,  jugs,  patera,  fibula,  rings,  bracelets,  mirrors,  etc. 
Nearly  all  the  objects  in  the  four  rooms  seem  to  have  been  "vo- 
tive offerings,"  and  testify  a  pagan  devotion  to  the  gods  not 
excelled  by  Christian  generosity  to  the  images  and  shrines  of 
modern  worship.  The  inscriptions  betoken  the  votive  character 
of  these  treasures ;    that  upon  the  heavy  gold  armlets  is  in  the 


TREASURES  LEFT  BEHIND.  241 

genitive  case,  and  would  be  literally  translated  "  Etevandri  Regis 
Paphi,"  the  words  "  offering  of"  being  understood  to  precede  it. 
I  confess  that  the  glitter  of  these  treasures,  and  the  glamour  of 
these  associations  with  the  ingenious  people  of  antiquity,  trans- 
formed the  naked  island  of  Cyprus,  as  we  lay  oif  it  in  the  golden 
sunset,  into  a  region  of  all  possibilities,  and  I  longed  to  take  my 
Strabo  and  my  spade  and  wander  off  prospecting  for  its  sacred 
placers.     It  seemed  to  me,  when  we   weighed  anchor  at  seven 
o'clock,  that  we  were  sailing  away  from  subterranean  passages 
stuffed  with   the   curious  treasures   of  antiquity,   from   concealed 
chambers  in  which  one,  if  he  could  only  remove  the  stone  slab  of 
the  door,  would  pick  up  the  cunning  work  of  the  Phoenician  jewel- 
lers, the  barbarous  ornaments  of  the  Assyrians,  the  conceits  in  gold 
and  silver  of  the  most  ancient  of  peoples,  the  Egyptians. 


XIX. 


THROUGH   SUMMER   SEAS.  —  RHODES. 


AT  daylight  next  morning  we  could  just  discern  Cyprus  sink- 
ing behind  us  in  the  horizon.  The  day  had  all  the  charm 
with  which  the  poets  have  invested  this  region ;  the  sea  was  of 
the  traditional  indigo  blue,  —  of  which  the  Blue  Grotto  of  Capri 
is  only  a  cheap  imitation.  No  land  was  in  sight,  after  we  lost 
Cyprus,  but  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  romance  lay  upon  the  waters, 
and  we  were  soothed  with  the  delights  of  an  idle  existence.  As 
good  a  world  as  can  be  made  with  a  perfect  sea  and  a  perfect  sky 
and  delicious  atmosphere  we  had. 

Through  this  summer  calm  voyages  our  great  steamer,  a  world 
in  itself,  an  exhibition,  a  fair,  a  ftte,  a  camp-meeting,  cut  loose 
from  the  earth  and  set  afloat.  There  are  not  less  than  eight  liun- 
dred  pilgrims  on  board,  people  known  as  first-class  and  second- 
class  stowed  in  every  nook  and  corner.  Forward  of  the  first 
cabin,  the  deck  of  the  long  vessel  is  packed  \rtth  human  beings, 
two  deep  and  sometimes  crossed,  a  crowd  which  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  penetrate.  We  look  down  into  the  hold  upon  a  mass 
of  bags  and  bundles  and  Russians  heaped  indiscriminately  to- 
gether,—  and  it  is  very  diflicult  to  distinguish  a  Russian  woman 
from  a  bundle  of  old  clothes,  when  she  is  in  repose.  These  peo- 
ple travel  with  their  bedding,  their  babies,  and  their  cooking 
utciisilg;  and  make  a  home  wherever  they  sit  down. 

The  forward  passengers  have  overflowed  their  limits  and  extend 
bafk  upon  our  portion  of  the  deck,  occupying  all  one  side  of  it  to 
the  stern,  leaving  the  so-called  privileged  class  only  a  narrow 
promenade  on  the  starboard  side.     These  intruders  are,  however, 


A  MOTLEY  BOAT-LOAD.  243 

rather  first-class  second-class.  Parties  of  them  are  camped  down 
in  small  squares,  which  become  at  once  miniature  seraglios.  One 
square  is  occupied  by  wealthy  jMoslems  from  Damascus,  and  in 
another  is  a  stately  person  who  is  rumored  to  be  the  Prince  of 
Damascus.  These  turbaned  and  silk-clad  Orientals  have  spread 
their  bright  rugs  and  cushions,  and  lounge  here  all  day  and  sleep 
here  at  night ;  some  of  them  entertain  themselves  Avith  chess,  but 
the  most  of  them  only  smoke  and  talk  little.  Why  should  they 
talk  ?  has  not  enough  already  been  said  in  the  world  ?  At  inter- 
vals during  the  day,  ascertaining,  I  do  not  know  how,  the  direc- 
tion of  Mecca,  these  grave  men  arise,  spread  their  prayer-carpets, 
and  begin  in  unison  their  kneelings  and  prostrations,  servants  and 
masters  together,  but  the  servants  behind  their  masters.  Next  to 
them,  fenced  off  by  benches,  is  a  harem  square,  occupied  by 
veiled  women,  perhaps  the  wives  of  these  Moslems  and  perhaps 
"  some  others."     All  the  deck  is  a  study  of  brilliant  costume. 

A  little  later  the  Oriental  prince  turns  out  to  be  only  a  Turkish 
pasha,  who  has  a  state-room  below  for  himself,  and  another  for 
his  harem  ;  but  in  another  compartment  of  our  flower-bed  of  a 
deck  is  a  merchant-prince  of  Damascus,  whose  gorgeousness  would 
impose  upon  people  more  sophisticated  than  we. 

"  He  no  prince ;  merchant  like  me,"  explains  Achmed,  "  and 
very  rich,  God  be  merciful." 

"  But  why  don't  you  travel  about  like  that,  Achmed,  and  make 
a  fine  display?  " 

"  For  why  ?  Anybody  say  Mohammed  Achmed  any  more  re- 
spect ?  What  for  I  show  my  rich  ?  Take  my  advice.  When  I 
am  dragoman,  I  am  servant ;  and  dress  [here  a  comico-sarcastic 
glance  at  his  plain  but  handsome  dragoman  apparel]  not  in  monkey 
shine,  like  Selim  —  you  remember  him  —  at  Jaffa,  fierce  like  a 
Bedawee.  I  make  business.  When  I  am  by  my  house,  that  is 
another  thing." 

The  pasha  has  rooms  below,  and  these  contiguous  squares  on 
deck  are  occupied,  the  one  by  his  suite  and  the  other  by  their 
ladies  and  slaves,  all  veiled  and  presumably  beautiful,  lolling  on 
the  cushions  in  the  ennui  that  appears  to  be  their  normal  condi- 
tion.    One  of  them  is  puffing  a  cigarette  under  her  white  veil  at 


244  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

tlie  risk  of  a  conflagration.  One  of  the  slaves,  with  an  olive  com- 
plexion and  dark  eyes,  is  very  pretty,  and  rather  likes  to  casually 
leave  her  face  uncovered  for  the  benefit  of  the  infidels  who  are 
about ;  that  her  feet  and  legs  are  bare  she  cares  still  less.  This 
harem  is,  however,  encroached  upon  by  Greek  women,  who  sprawl 
about  with  more  freedom,  and  regard  the  world  without  the  hin- 
drance of  a  veil.  If  they  are  not  handsome,  they  are  at  least  not 
self-conscious,  as  you  would  think  women  would  be  in  baggy  silk 
trousers  and  embroidered  jackets. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  in  sight  of  the  ancient  coasts  of  Pam- 
phylia  and  Lycia  and  a  lovely  range  of  what  we  took  to  be  the 
Karamanian  mountains,  snow-covered  and  half  hid  in  clouds,  all 
remote  and  dim  to  our  vision  as  the  historical  pageant  of  Assyrian, 
Persian,  and  Eoman  armies  on  these  shores  is  to  our  memory. 
Eastward  on  that  rugged  coast  we  know  is  Cilicia  and  the  Tarsus 
of  Paul  and  Haroun  al  Raschid.  The  sunset  on  the  Lycian  moun- 
tains was  glorious  ;  the  foot  by  the  water  was  veiled  in  golden 
mist ;  the  sea  sank  from  indigo  to  purple,  and  when  the  light 
waves  broke  flecks  of  rose  or  blood  flowed  on  the  surface. 

After  dark,  and  before  we  were  abreast  of  old  Xanthus,  we  de- 
scried the  famous  natural  light  which  is  almost  as  mysterious  to 
the  moderns  as  it  was  to  the  ancients.  The  Handbook  says  of  it : 
"  About  two  miles  from  the  coast,  through  a  fertile  plain,  and 
then  ascending  a  woody  glen,  the  traveller  arrives  at  the  Zatia?-, 
or  volcanic  flame,  Avhich  issues  perpetually  from  the  mountain." 
Pliny  says  :  "  Mount  Chinujera,  near  Phaselis,  emits  an  unceasing 
flame  that  burns  day  and  night."  Captain  Beaufort  observed  it 
from  the  ship  during  the  night  as  a  small  but  steady  light  among 
the  hills.  We  at  first  mistook  it  for  a  lighthouse.  But  it  was 
too  high  above  the  water  for  that,  and  the  flame  was  too  large  ; 
it  was  rather  a  smoky  radiance  than  a  point  of  light,  and  yet  it 
had  a  dull  red  centre  and  a  duller  luminous  surrounding.  We 
regarded  with  curiosity  and  some  awe  a  flame  that  had  been  burn- 
ing for  over  twenty  centuries,  and  perhaps  was  alight  before  the 
signal-fires  were  kindled  to  announce  the  fall  of  Troy,  —  Nature's 
own  Pharos  to  the  ancient  mariners  who  were  without  compass 
on  these  treacherous  seas. 


THE   CLASSIC   COAST.  245 

Otherwise,  this  classic  coast  is  dark,  extingaiished  is  the  fire  on 
the  altar  of  Apollo  at  Patera,  silent  is  the  Avinter  oracle  of  this 
god,  and  desolate  is  the  once  luxurious  metropolis  of  Lycia. 
Even  Xanthus,  the  capital,  a  name  disused  by  the  present  inhab- 
itants, has  little  to  show  of  Greek  culture  or  Persian  possession, 
and  one  must  seek  the  fragments  of  its  antique  art  in  the  British 
Museum. 

Coming  on  deck  the  next  morning  at  the  fi-esh  hour  of  sunrise, 
I  found  we  were  at  Khodes.  We  lay  just  off  the  semicircular 
harbor,  which  is  clasped  by  walls  —  partly  shaken  down  by  earth- 
quakes —  which  have  noble  round  towers  at  each  embracing  end. 
Rhodes  is,  from  the  sea,  one  of  the  most  picturesque  cities  in  the 
Mediterranean,  although  it  has  little  remains  of  that  ancient  splen- 
dor which  caused  Strabo  to  prefer  it  to  Eome  or  Alexandria.  The 
harbor  wall,  which  is  flanked  on  each  side  by  stout  and  round 
stone  windmills,  extends  up  the  hill,  and,  becoming  double,  sur- 
rounds the  old  town  ;  these  massive  fortifications  of  the  Knights 
of  St.  John  have  withstood  the  onsets  of  enemies  and  the  tremors 
of  the  earth,  and,  with  the  ancient  moat,  excite  the  curiosity  of 
this  so-called  peaceful  age  of  iron-clads  and  monster  cannon.  The 
city  ascends  the  slope  of  the  hill  and  passes  beyond  the  wall. 
Outside  and  on  the  right  towards  the  sea  are  a  picturesque  group 
of  a  couple  of  dozen  stone  windmills,  and  some  minarets  and  a 
church-tower  or  two.  Higher  up  the  hill  is  sprinkled  a  little 
foliage,  a  few  mulberry-trees,  and  an  isolated  palm  or  two  ;  and, 
beyond,  the  island  is  only  a  mass  of  broken,  bold,  rocky  moun- 
tains. Of  its  forty-five  miles  of  length,  running  southwesterly 
from  the  little  point  on  which  the  city  stands,  we  can  see  but 
little. 

Whether  or  not  Rhodes  emerged  from  the  sea  at  the  command 
of  Apollo,  the  Greeks  expressed  by  this  tradition  of  its  origin 
their  appreciation  of  its  gracious  climate,  fertile  soil,  and  exqui- 
site scenery.  From  remote  antiquity  it  had  fame  as  a  seat  of  arts 
and  letters,  and  of  a  vigorous  maritime  power,  and  the  romance 
of  its  early  centuries  was  equalled  if  not  surpassed  when  it  be- 
came the  residence  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John.  I  believe  that 
the  first  impress  of  its  civilization  was  given  by  the  Phoenicians; 


246  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

it  was  the  home  of  the  Dorian  race  before  the  time  of  the  Trojan 
war,  and  its  three  cities  were  members  of  the  Dorian  Hexapolis  ; 
it  was  in  fact  a  flourishing  maritime  confederacy,  strong  enough 
to  send  colonies  to  the  distant  Italian  coast,  and  Sybaris  and 
Parthenope  (modern  Naples)  pei-petuated  the  luxurious  refine- 
ment of  their  founders.  The  city  of  Rhodes  itself  was  founded 
about  four  hundred  years  before  Christ,  and  the  splendor  of  its 
palaces,  its  statues  and  paintings,  gave  it  a  pre-eminence  among  the 
most  magnificent  cities  of  the  ancient  world.  If  the  earth  of  this 
island  could  be  made  to  yield  its  buried  treasures  as  Cyprus  has, 
we  should  doubtless  have  new  proofs  of  the  influence  of  Asiatic 
civilization  upon  the  Greeks,  and  be  able  to  trace  in  the  early 
Doric  arts  and  customs  the  superior  civilization  of  the  Plioeni- 
cians,  and  of  the  masters  of  the  latter  in  science  and  art,  the 
Egyptians. 

Naturally,  every  traveller  who  enters  the  harbor  of  Rhodes 
hopes  to  see  the  site  of  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world,  the 
Colossus.  He  is  free  to  place  it  on  either  mole  at  the  entrance  of 
the  harbor,  but  he  comprehends  at  once  that  a  statue  which  was 
only  one  hundred  and  five  feet  high  could  never  have  extended  its 
legs  across  the  port.  The  fame  of  this  colossal  bronze  statue  of 
the  sun  is  disproportioned  to  the  period  of  its  existence ;  it  stood 
only  fifty-six  years  after  its  erection,  being  shaken  down  by  an 
earthquake  in  the  year  224  B.  c,  and  encumbering  the  gi-ound 
with  its  fragments  till  the  advent  of  the  Moslem  conquerors. 

When  we  landed,  the  town  was  not  yet  awake,  except  the  boat- 
men and  the  coffee-houses  by  the  landing-stairs.  The  Gretk 
boatman,  whom  we  accepted  as  our  guide,  made  an  unsuccessful 
excursion  for  bread,  finding  only  a  black  uneatable  mixture, 
sprinkled  with  aromatic  seeds  ;  but  we  sat  under  the  shelter  of  an 
old  sycamore  in  a  lovely  place  by  the  shore,  and  sipped  our  coftee, 
and  saw  the  sun  coming  over  Lycia,  and  shining  on  the  old 
towers  and  walls  of  the  Knights. 

Passing  from  the  quay  through  a  highly  ornamented  Gothic 
gateway,  we  ascended  the  famous  historic  street,  still  called  the 
Street  of  the  Knishts,  the  massive  houses  of  whicli  have  with- 
stood  the  siiocks  of  earthquakes  and  the  devastation  of  Saracenic 


OLD   RHODES.  247 

and  Turkish  occupation.  At  this  hour  the  street  was  as  deserted 
as  it  was  three  centuries  and  a  half  ago,  when  the  Knights  sor- 
rowfully sailed  out  of  the  harbor  in  search  of  a  new  home. 
Their  four  months'  defence  of  the  city,  against  the  overwhelm- 
ing force  of  Suleiman  the  Magnificent,  added  a  new  lustre  to  their 
valor,  and  extorted  the  admiration  of  the  victor  and  the  most  hon- 
orable terms  of  surrender.  With  them  departed  the  prosperity 
of  Rhodes.  This  street,  of  whose  palaces  we  have  heard  so 
much,  is  not  imposing  ;  it  is  not  wide,  its  solid  stone  houses  are 
only  two  stories  high,  and  their  fronts  are  now  disfigured  by 
cheap  Arab  balconies,  but  the  facades  are  gray  with  age.  All 
along  are  remains  of  carved  windows.  Gothic  sculptured  door- 
ways, and  shields  and  coats  of  arms,  crosses  and  armorial 
legends,  are  set  in  the  walls,  partially  defaced  by  time  and  acci- 
dent ;  for  the  Moslems,  apparently  inheriting  the  respect  of  Sulei- 
man for  the  Knights,  have  spared  the  mementos  of  their  faith  and 
prowess.  I  saw  no  inscriptions  that  are  intact,  but  made  out 
upop  one  shield  the  words  voluntas  mei  est.  The  caiTing  is  all 
beautiful. 

We  went  through  the  silent  streets,  waking  only  echoes  of  the 
past,  out  to  the  ruins  of  the  once  elegant  church  of  St.  John, 
which  was  shaken  down  by  a  powder-explosion  some  thirty  years 
ago,  and  utterly  flattened  by  an  earthquake  some  years  after- 
wards. Outside  the  ramparts  we  met,  and  saluted  with  the  free- 
dom of  travellers,  a  gorgeous  Turk  who  was  taking  the  morning 
air,  and  whom  our  guide  in  bated  breath  said  was  the  governor. 
In  this  part  of  the  town  is  the  Mosque  of  Suleiman  ;  in  the  por- 
tal are  two  lovely  marble  columns,  rich  with  age  ;  the  lintels  are 
exquisitely  carved  wdth  flowers,  arms,  casques,  musical  instru- 
ments, the  crossed  sword  and  the  torch,  and  the  mandolin,  per- 
haps the  emblem  of  some  troubadour  knight.  Wherever  we  went 
we  found  bits  of  old  carving,  remains  of  columns,  sections  of 
battlemented  roofs.  The  town  is  saturated  with  the  old  Knights. 
Near  the  mosque  is  a  foundation  of  charity,  a  public  kitchen,  at 
which  the  poor  were  fed  or  were  free  to  come  and  cook  their  food  ; 
it  is  in  decay  now,  and  the  rooks  were  sailing  about  its  old  round- 
topped  chimneys. 


248  IN   THE  LEVANT. 

There  are  no  Hellenic  remains  in  the  city,  and  the  only  re- 
membrance of  that  past  which  we  searched  for  was  the  antique 
coin,  which  has  upon  one  side  the  head  of  Medusa  and  upon  the 
other  the  rose  irhodd)  which  gave  the  town  its  name.  The  town 
was  quiet;  but  in  pursuit  of  this  coin  in  the  Jews'  quarter  we 
started  up  swarms  of  traders,  were  sent  from  Isaac  to  Jacob,  and 
invaded  dark  shops  and  private  houses  where  Jewish  women  and 
children  were  just  beginning  to  complain  of  the  morning  light. 
Our  guide  was  i,  jolly  Greek,  who  was  willing  to  awaken  the 
whole  town  in  search  of  a  silver  coin.  The  traders,  when  we  had 
routed  them  out,  had  little  to  show  in  the  way  of  antiquities. 
Perhaps  the  best  representative  of  the  modern  manufactures  of 
Rhodes  is  the  wooden  shoe,  which  is  in  form  like  the  Damascus 
clog,  but  is  inlaid  with  more  taste.  The  people  whom  we  en- 
countered in  our  morning  walk  were  Greeks  or  Jews. 

The  morning  atmosphere  was  delicious,  and  we  could  well 
believe  that  the  climate  of  Rhodes  is  the  finest  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and  also  that  it  is  the  least  exciting  of  cities. 

"  Is  it  always  so  peaceful  here  ?  "  we  asked  the  guide. 

"  Nothing,  if  you  please,"  said  he,  "  has  happened  here  since 
the  powder-explosion,  nothing  in  the  least." 

"  And  is  the  town  as  healthy  as  they  say  ?  " 

"Nobody  dies." 

The  town  is  certainly  clean,  if  it  is  in  decay.  In  one  street  we , 
found  a  row  of  midberry-trees  down  the  centre,  but  they  were 
half  decayed,  like  the  street.  I  shall  always  think  of  Rhodes  as 
a  silent  city,  —  except  in  the  Jews'  quarter,  where  the  hope  of 
selling  an  old  coin  set  the  whole  hive  humming,  —  and  I  suspect 
that  is  its  normal  condition. 


XX. 

AMONG  THE  ^GEAN  ISLANDS. 


OUR  sail  all  day  among  the  iEgean  islands  was  surpassingly 
lovely ;  our  course  was  constantly  changing  to  wind  among 
them ;  their  beautiful  outlines  and  the  soft  atmosphere  that  en- 
wrapped them  disposed  us  to  regard  them  in  the  light  of  Homeric 
history,  and  we  did  not  struggle  against  the  illusion.  They  are 
all  treeless,  and  for  the  most  part  have  scant  traces  of  vegetation, 
except  a  thin  gi*een  grass  which  seems  rather  a  color  than  a  sub- 
stance. Here  are  the  little  islands  of  Chalce  and  Syme,  once 
seats  of  Grecian  culture,  now  the  abode  of  a  few  thousand  sponge- 
fishers.  We  pass  Telos,  and  Nisyi'os,  which  was  once  ruled  by 
Queen  Artemisia,  and  had  its  share  in  the  fortunes  of  the  wars  of 
Athens  and  Sparta.  It  is  a  small  round  mass  of  rock,  but  it 
rises  twenty-two  hundred  feet  out  of  the  sea,  and  its  volcanic  soil 
is  favorable  to  the  grape.  Opposite  is  the  site  of  the  ruins  of 
Cnidus,  a  Dorian  city  of  great  renown,  and  famous  for  its  shrine 
of  Venus,  and  her  statue  by  Praxiteles.  We  get  an  idea  of  the 
indentation  of  this  coast  of  Asia  Minor  (and  its  consequent  acces- 
sibility to  early  settlement  and  civilization)  from  the  fact  that 
Cnidus  is  situated  on  a  very  naiTow  peninsula  ninety  miles  long. 
Kos  is  celebrated  not  only  for  its  size,  loveliness,  and  fertility, 
but  as  the  birthplace  of  Apelles  and  of  Hippocrates ;  the  in- 
habitants still  venerate  an  enormous  plane-tree  under  which  the 
good  physician  is  said  to  have  dispensed  his  knowledge  of  heal- 
ing. The  city  of  Kos  is  on  a  fine  plain,  which  gradually  slopes 
from  the  mountain  to  the  sea  and  is  well  covered  with  trees. 
The  attractive  town  lies  prettily  along  the  shore,  and  is  dis- 
11* 


250  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

tinguished  by  a  massive  square  mediaeval  fortress,  and  by  round 
stone  windmills  with  specially  long  arms. 

As  we  came  around  the  corner  of  Kos,  we  had  a  view,  dis- 
tant but  interesting,  of  the  site  of  llalicarnassus,  the  modern 
town  of  Boudroum,  with  its  splendid  fortress,  which  the  Turks 
wrested  from  the  Knights  of  St.  John.  We  sail  by  it  with 
regret,  for  the  student  and  traveller  in  the  East  comes  to  have  a 
tender  feeling  for  the  simple  nature  of  the  father  of  history,  and 
would  forego  some  other  pleasant  experiences  to  make  a  pilgrim- 
age to  the  birthplace  of  Herodotus.  Here,  also,  was  born  the 
historian  Dionysius.  And  here,  a  few  years  ago,  were  identified 
the  exact  site  and  rescued  the  remains  of  another  of  the  Seven 
"Wonders,  the  Tomb  of  Mausolus,  built  in  honor  of  her  husband 
by  the  Carian  Artemisia,  who  sustained  to  him  the  double  rela- 
tion of  sister  and  queen.  This  monument,  which  exhibited  the 
perfection  of  Greek  art,  was  four  hundred  and  eleven  feet  in  cir- 
cumference and  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  high.  It  consisted 
of  a  round  building,  surrounded  by  thirty-six  columns  surmounted 
by  a  pyramid,  and  upon  the  latter  stood  a  colossal  group  of  a 
chariot  and  four  liorses.  Some  of  the  beautiful  sculpture  of  this 
mausoleum  can  be  seen  in  the  British  Museum. 

We  were  all  the  afternoon  endeavoring  to  get  sight  of  Patmos, 
which  the  intervening  islands  hid  from  view.  Every  half-hour 
some  one  was  discovering  it,  and  announcing  the  fact.  No  doubt 
half  the  passengers  will  go  to  their  graves  comforted  by  the 
belief  that  they  saw  it.  Some  of  them  actually  did  have  a 
glimpse  of  it  towards  night,  between  the  islands  of  Lipso  and 
Arki.  It  is  a  larger  island  than  we  expected  to  see ;  and  as  we 
had  understood  that  the  Revelations  were  written  on  a  small 
rocky  island,  in  fact  a  mere  piece  of  rock,  the  feat  seemed  less 
difficult  on  a  good-sized  island.  Its  height  is  now  crowned  by 
the  celebrated  monastery  of  St.  John,  but  the  island  is  as  barren 
antl  uninviting  as  it  was  when  the  Romans  used  it  as  a  place  of 
banishment. 

We  passed  Astypatiea,  Kalyminos,  Leros,  and  a  sprinkling  of 
islets  (as  if  a  giant  had  sown  this  sea  with  rocks),  each  of  whicli 
has  a  history,  or  is  graced  by  a  legend  ;  but  their  glory  is  of  the 


i 


THE   BEGINNINGS   OF  OUR  ERA.  251 

past.  The  chief  support  of  their  poor  inhabitants  is  now  the 
sponge-fishery.  At  sunset  we  had  before  us  Icaria  and  Samos, 
and  on  the  mainland  the  site  of  Miletus,  now  a  fever-smitten 
place,  whose  vast  theatre  is  almost  the  sole  remains  of  the  me- 
tropolis of  the  Ionic  confederacy.  Perhaps  the  centre  of  Ionic 
art  and  culture  was,  however,  the  island  of  Samos,  but  I  doubt 
not  the  fame  of  its  Samian  wine  has  canned  its  name  further  than 
the  exploits  of  its  warriors,  the  works  of  its  artists,  or  the  thoughts 
of  its  philosophers.  It  was  the  birthplace  of  Pythagoras ;  it  was 
once  governed  by  Polycrates ;  there  for  a  time  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra established  their  court  of  love  and  luxury.  In  the  evening 
we  sailed  close  under  its  high  cliffs,  and  saw  dimly  opposite 
Icaria,  whose  only  merit  or  interest  lies  in  its  association  with  the 
ill-judged  aerial  voyage  of  Icarus,  the  sou  of  Daedalus. 

Although  the  voyager  amid  these  islands  and  along  this  historic 
coast  profoundly  feels  the  influence  of  the  past,  and,  as  he  reads 
and  looks  and  reflects,  becomes  saturated  with  its  half-mysterious 
and  delicious  romance,  he  is  nevertheless  scarcely  able  to  believe 
that  these  denuded  shores  and  purple,  rocky  islets  were  the  homes 
of  heroes,  the  theatres  of  world-renowned  exploits,  the  seats  of 
wealth  and  luxury  and  power ;  that  the  marble  of  splendid  temples 
gleamed  from  every  summit  and  headland  ;  that  rich  cities  clustered 
on  every  island  and  studded  the  mainland ;  and  that  this  region, 
bounteous  in  the  fruits  of  the  liberal  earth,  was  not  less  prolific  in 
vigorous  men  and  beautiful  women,  who  planted  adventurous  and 
remote  colonies,  and  sowed  around  the  Mediterranean  the  seeds  of 
our  modern  civilization.  In  the  present  desolation  and  soft  decay 
it  is  difficult  to  recall  the  wealth,  the  diversified  industry,  the  mar- 
tial spirit,  the  refinement  of  the  races  whose  art  and  literature  are 
still  our  emulation  and  despair.  Here,  indeed,  were  the  begin- 
nings of  our  era,  of  our  modem  life,  —  separated  by  a  great  gulf 
from  the  ancient  civilization  of  the  Nile,  —  the  life  of  the  people, 
the  attempts  at  self-government,  the  individual  adventure,  the  new 
development  of  human  relations  consequent  upon  commerce,  and 
the  freer  exchange  of  products  and  ideas. 

What  these  islands  and  this  variegated  and  genial  coast  of  Asia 
Minor  might  become  under  a  government  that  did  not  paralyze 


252  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

effort  and  rob  industry,  it  is  impossible  to  say  ;  but  the  impres- 
sion is  made  upon  the  traveller  that  Nature  herself  is  exhaustcil  in 
these  regions,  and  that  it  will  need  the  rest  or  chan<;e  of  a 
geologic  era  to  restore  her  pristine  vigor.  The  prodigality  and 
avarice  of  thousands  of  years  have  left  the  land  —  now  that  the 
flame  of  civilization  has  burned  out  —  like  the  crater  of  an  ex- 
tinct volcano.  But  probably  it  is  society  and  not  nature  that  is 
dead.  The  island  of  Rhodes,  for  an  example,  might  in  a  few 
years  of  culture  again  produce  the  forests  that  once  supplied  her 
hardy  sons  with  fleets  of  vessels,  and  her  genial  soil,  under  any 
intelligent  agriculture,  would  yield  abundant  harvests.  The  laud 
is  now  divided  into  petty  holdings,  and  each  poor  proprietor 
scratches  it  just  enough  to  make  it  yield  a  scanty  return. 

During  the  night  the  steamer  had  come  to  Chios  (Scio),  and  I 
rose  at  dawn  to  see  — for  we  had  no  opportunity  to  land  —  the  spot 
almost  e(|ually  famous  as  the  birthplace  of  Homer  and  the  land  of 
the  Chian  mne.  The  town  lies  along  the  water  for  a  mile  or 
more  around  a  shallow  bay  opening  to  the  east,  a  city  of  small 
white  liouses,  relieved  by  a  minaret  or  two  ;  close  to  the  water's 
edge  are  some  three-story  edifices,  and  in  front  is  an  ancient  square 
fort,  which  has  a  mole  extending  into  the  water,  terminated  by  a 
mediieval  bastion,  behind  which  small  vessels  find  shelter.  Low 
by  the  shore,  on  the  north,  are  some  of  the  sturdy  windmills  pe- 
culiar to  these  islands,  and  I  can  distinguish  with  a  glass  a  few 
fragments  of  Byzantine  and  mediaeval  architecture  among  the 
common  buildings.  Staring  at  us  from  the  middle  of  the  town 
were  two  big  signs,  with  the  word  "  Hotel." 

To  the  south  of  the  town,  amid  a  grove  of  trees,  are  the  white 
stones  of  the  cemetery  ;  the  city  of  the  dead  is  nearly  as  large  as 
that  of  the  living.  Behind  the  city  arc  orange  orchards  and  many 
a  bright  spot  of  verdure,  but  the  space  for  it  is  not  broad.  Sharp, 
bare,  serrated,  perpendicular  ridges  of  mountain  rise  behind  the 
town,  encircling  it  like  an  amphitheatre.  In  the  morning  light 
these  mountains  are  tawny  aud  rich  in  color,  tinged  with  purple 
and  red.  Chios  is  a  pretty  picture  in  the  shelter  of  these  bills, 
which  gather  for  it  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun. 

It  is  now  half  a  centuiy  since  the  name  of  Scio  rang  through 


RAVAGED   SCIO.  253 

the  civilized  world  as  the  theatre  of  a  deed  which  Turkish  history 
itself  can  scarcely  parallel,  and  the  island  is  vigorously  regaining 
its  prosperity.  It  only  needs  to  recall  the  outlines  of  the  story. 
The  fertile  island,  which  is  four  times  the  extent  of  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  was  the  home  of  one  hundred  and  ten  thousand  inhab- 
itants, of  whom  only  six  thousand  were  Turks.  The  Greeks  of 
Scio  were  said  to  differ  physically  and  morally  from  all  their  kin- 
dred ;  their  merchants  were  pnnces  at  home  and  abroad,  art  and 
literature  flourished,  with  grace  and  refinement  of  manner,  and 
there  probably  nowhere  existed  a  society  more  industrious,  gay, 
contented,  and  intelligent.  Tempted  by  some  adventurers  from 
Samos  to  rebel,  they  drew  down  upon  themselves  the  vengeance 
of  the  Turks,  who  retaliated  the  bloody  massacre  of  Turkish 
men,  women,  and  children  by  the  insurrectionists,  with  a  universal 
destruction.  The  city  of  Scio,  with  its  thirty  thousand  inhab- 
itants, and  seventy  villages,  were  reduced  to  ashes  ;  twenty-five 
thousand  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes  were  slain,  forty-five  thou- 
sand were  caiTied  away  as  slaves,  among  them  women  and  children 
who  had  been  reared  in  luxury,  and  most  of  the  remainder  escaped, 
in  a  destitute  state,  into  other  parts  of  Greece.  At  the  end  of 
the  summer's  han'est  of  death,  only  two  thousand  Sciotes  were 
left  on  the  island.  An  apologist  for  the  Turks  could  only  urge 
that  the  Greeks  would  have  been  as  unmerciful  under  like  circum- 
stances. 

None  of  the  first-class  passengers  were  up  to  see  Chios,  —  not 
one  for  poor  Homer's  sake  ;  but  the  second-class  were  stirring  for 
their  own,  crawling  out  of  their  comfortables,  giving  the  babies  a 
turn,  and  the  vigilant  flea  a  taste  of  the  morning  air.  When  the 
Eussian  peasant,  who  sleeps  in  the  high  truncated  frieze  cap,  and 
in  the  coat  which  he  wore  in  Jerusalem,  —  a  garment  short  in  the 
waist,  gathered  in  pleats  underneath  the  shoulders,  and  falling  in 
stiff  expanding  folds  below,  —  when  he  fii'st  gets  up  and  rubs  his 
eyes,  he  is  an  astonished  being.  His  short-legged  wife  is  already 
astir,  and  beginning  to  collect  the  materials  of  breakfast.  Some 
of  the  Greeks  are  making  coffee ;  there  is  a  smell  of  coff'ee,  and 
there  are  various  other  unanalyzed  odors.  But  for  pilgrims,  and 
pilgrims  so  closely  packed  that  no  one  can  stir  without  moving 


254  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

the  entire  mass,  these  are  much  cleaner  than  they  might  be 
expected  to  be,  and  cleaner,  indeed,  than  they  can  continue  to  be, 
and  keep  up  their  reputation.  And  yet,  half  an  hour  among 
them,  looking  out  from  the  bow  for  a  comprehensive  view  of 
Chios,  is  quite  enough.  I  mshed,  then,  that  these  people  would 
change  either  their  religion  or  their  clothes. 

Last  night  we  had  singing  on  deck  by  an  extemporized  quar- 
tette of  young  Americans,  with  harmonious  and  well-blended 
voices,  and  it  was  a  most  delightful  contrast  to  the  caterwauling, 
accompanied  by  the  darabouka,  which  we  constantly  hear  on  the 
forward  deck,  and  which  the  Arabs  call  singing.  Even  the  fat, 
good-humored  little  Moslem  from  Damascus,  who  lives  in  the 
pen  with  the  merchant-prince  of  that  city,  listened  with  delight 
and  declared  that  it  was  tyeb  kaleer.  Who  knows  but  these  peo- 
ple, who  are  always  singing,  have  some  appreciation  of  music 
after  all  ? 


XXI. 

SMYENA  AND   EPHESUS. 

WHEN  vre  left  Chios  we  sailed  at  first  east,  right  into  the  sun, 
gradually  turned  north  and  rounded  the  promontory  of  the 
mainland,  and  then,  east  hy  south,  came  into  the  beautiful  land- 
locked bay  of  Smyrna,  in  which  the  blue  water  changes  into  a 
muddy  green.  At  length  we  passed  on  the  right  a  Turkish  for- 
tress, which  appeared  as  formidable  as  a  bathing  establishment, 
and  Smyrna  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  gulf,  circling  the  shore,  — 
white  houses,  fruit-trees,  and  hills  beyond. 

The  wind  was  north,  as  it  always  is  here  in  the  morning,  and 
the  lauding  was  difficult.  We  had  the  usual  excitement  of  swarm- 
ing boats  and  clamorous  boatmen  and  lively  waves.  One  passen- 
ger went  into  the  water  instead  of  the  boat,  but  was  easily  fished 
out  by  his  baggy  trousers,  and,  as  he  was  a  Greek  pilgrim,  it  was 
thought  that  a  little  water  would  n't  injui'e  him.  Coming  to  the 
shore  we  climbed  with  difficulty  out  of  the  bobbing  boat  upon  the 
sea-waU ;  the  shiftless  Turkish  government  wiU  do  nothing  to  im- 
prove the  landing  at  this  great  port,  —  if  the  Sultan  can  borrow 
any  money  he  builds  a  new  palace  on  the  Bosphorus,  or  an  iron- 
clad to  anchor  in  front  of  it. 

Smyrna  may  be  said  to  have  a  character  of  its  own  in  not 
having  any  character  of  its  own.  One  of  the  most  ancient  cities 
on  the  globe,  it  has  no  appearance  of  antiquity ;  containing  all 
nationalities,  it  has  no  nationality ;  the  second  commercial  city  of 
the  East,  it  has  no  chamber  of  commerce,  no  Bourse,  no  commer- 
cial unity ;  its  citizens  are  of  no  country  and  have  no  impulse  of 
patriotism ;  it  is  an  Asiatic  city  with  a  European  face ;  it  pro- 


256  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

(luces  nothing,  it  exchanges  everything, — the  fabrics  of  Europe,  the 
luxuries  of  the  Orient ;  the  children  of  the  East  are  sent  to  its 
schools,  but  it  has  no  literary  character  nor  any  influence  of  cul- 
ture ;  it  is  hospitable  to  all  religions,  and  conspicuous  for  none ;  it 
is  the  paradise  of  the  Turks,  the  home  of  luxury  and  of  beautiful 
women,  but  it  is  also  a  favorite  of  the  mosquito,  and,,  until  re- 
cently, it  has  been  the  yearly  camp  of  the  plague ;  it  is  not  the 
most  healthful  city  in  the  world,  and  yet  it  is  the  metropolis  of 
the  drug-trade. 

Smynia  can  be  compared  to  Damascus  in  its  age  and  in  its  per- 
petuity under  all  discouragements  and  changes,  —  the  shocks  of 
earthquakes,  the  constant  visitations  of  pestilence,  and  the  rixle 
of  a  hundred  masters.  It  was  a  great  city  before  the  migration  of 
the  lonians  into  Asia  Minor,  it  saw  the  rise  and  fall  of  Sardis,  it 
was  restored  from  a  paralysis  of  four  centuries  by  Alexander. 
Under  all  vicissitudes  it  seems  to  have  retained  its  character  of 
a  great  mart  of  exchange,  a  necessity  for  the  trade  of  Asia ;  and 
perhaps  the  indifference  of  its  conglomerate  inhabitants  to  freedom 
and  to  creeds  contributed  to  its  safety.  Certainly  it  thrived  as 
well  under  the  Christians,  when  it  was  the  seat  of  one  of  the 
seven  churches,  as  it  did  under  the  Romans,  when  it  was  a  seat 
of  a  great  school  of  sophists  and  rhetoricians,  and  it  is  equally 
prosperous  under  the  sway  of  the  successor  of  Mohammed.  Dur- 
ing the  thousand  years  of  the  always  decaying  Byzantine  Empire 
it  had  its  share  of  misfortunes,  and  its  walls  alteniately,  at  a  later 
day,  displayed  the  star  and  crescent,  and  the  equal  arms  of  the 
cross  of  St.  John.  Yet,  in  all  its  historj',  I  seem  to  see  the  trad- 
ing, gay,  free,  but  not  disorderly  Smyrna  passing  on  its  even  way 
of  traffic  and  of  pleasure. 

Of  its  two  hundred  thousand  and  more  inhabitants,  about 
ninety  thousand  are  Rayah  Greeks,  and  about  eighty  thousand  are 
Turks.  There  is  a  changing  population  of  perhaps  a  thousand 
Europeans,  there  are  large  bodies  of  Jews  and  Armenians,  and  it 
was  recently  estimated  to  have  as  many  as  fifteen  thousand  Levan- 
tines. These  latter  are  the  descendants  of  the  marriage  of  Euro- 
peans with  Greek  and  Jewish  women  ;  and  whatever  moral  repu- 
tation the  Levantines  enjoy  in  the  Levant,  the  women  of  this 


COSMOPOLITAN   SMYRNA.  257 

mixture  are  famous  for  their  beauty.  But  the  race  is  said  to  be 
not  self-sustaining,  and  is  yielding  to  the  original  types.  The 
languages  spoken  in  Smyrna  are  Turkish,  a  Greek  dialect  (the 
Romaic),  Spanish,  Italian,  French,  English,  and  Arabic,  probably 
prevailing  in  the  order  named.  Our  own  steamer  was  much  more 
Oriental  than  the  city  of  Smyrna.  As  soon  as  we  stepped  ashore 
we  seemed  to  have  come  into  a  Eiu-opean  city;  the  people 
almost  all  wear  the  Frank  dress,  the  shops  offer  little  that  is 
peculiar.  One  who  was  unfamiliar  with  bazaars  might  wonder  at 
the  tangle  of  various  lanes,  but  we  saw  nothing  calling  for  com- 
ment. A  walk  through  the  Jewish  quarter,  here  as  eveiy where 
else  the  dirtiest  and  most  picturesque  in  the  city,  will  reward  the 
philosophic  traveller  with  the  sight  of  lovely  women  lolling  at 
every  window.  It  is  not  the  fashion  for  Smymiote  ladies  to 
promenade  the  streets,  but  they  mercifuUy  array  themselves  in  full 
toilet  and  stand  in  their  doorways. 

The  programme  of  the  voyage  of  the  Achille  promised  us  a 
day  and  a  half  in  Smyrna,  which  would  give  us  time  to  visit 
Ephesus.  We  were  due  Friday  noon ;  we  did  not  arrive  till 
Saturday  noon.  This  vexatious  delay  had  caused  much  agitation 
on  board;  to  be  cheated  out  of  Ephesus  was  an  outrage  which 
the  tourists  could  not  submit  to ;  they  had  come  this  way  on 
purpose  to  see  Ephesus.  They  would  rather  give  up  anything 
else  in  the  East.  The  captain  said  he  had  no  discretion,  he 
must  sail  at  4  p.  M.  The  passengers  then  prepared  a  handsome 
petition  to  the  agent,  begging  him  to  detain  the  steamer  tiU  eight 
o'clock,  in  order  to  permit  them  to  visit  Ephesus  by  a  special 
train.  There  is  a  proclivity  in  all  those  who  can  write  to  sign 
any  and  every  thing  except  a  subscription  paper,  and  this  petition 
received  fifty-six  eager  and  first-class  signatures.  The  agent  at 
Smyrna  plumply  refused  our  request,  with  unnecessary  surliness ; 
but  upon  the  arrival  of  the  captain,  and  a  consultation  which  no 
doubt  had  more  reference  to  freight  than  to  the  petition,  the 
official  agreed,  as  a  special  favor,  to  detain  the  steamer  till  eight 
o'clock,  but  not  a  moment  longer. 

We  hastened  to  the  station  of  the  Aidin  Railway,  which  runs 
eighty  nules  to  Aidin,  the  ancient  TraUes,  a  rich  Lydian  metropo- 


258  IN   THE   LEVANT, 

lis  of  immemorial  foundation.  The  modern  town  has  perhaps 
fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  is  a  depot  for  cotton  and  figs;  that 
sweetmeat  of  Paradise,  the  halva,  is  manufactured  there,  and  its 
great  tanneries  produce  fine  yellow  Morocco  leather.  The  town 
Jies  only  three  miles  from  the  famous  tortuous  Maeander,  and  all 
the  region  about  it  is  a  garden  of  vines  and  fruit-trees.  The  rail- 
way company  is  under  English  management,  which  signifies 
promptness,  and  the  special  train  was  ready  in  ten  minutes  ; 
when  lo  !  of  the  fifty-six  devotees  of  Ephesus  only  eleven  ap- 
peared. We  were  off  at  once;  good  engine,  solid  track,  clean, 
elegant,  comfortable  carnages.  As  we  moved  out  of  the  city  the 
air  was  full  of  the  odor  of  orange-blossoms ;  we  crossed  the 
Meles,  and  sped  down  a  valley,  very  fertile,  smiling  with  grain- 
fields,  green  meadows,  groves  of  mulberry,  oranges,  figs,  with 
blue  hills,  ^-  an  ancient  Mount  Olympus,  beyond  which  lay  green 
Sardis,  in  the  distance,  a  country  as  lovely  and  home-like  as  an 
English  or  American  farm-land.  We  had  seen  nothing  so  luxu- 
riant and  thriving  in  the  East  before.  The  hills,  indeed,  were 
stripped  of  trees,  but  clad  on  the  tops  with  verdure,  the  result  of 
plentiful  rains. 

We  went  "  express."  The  usual  time  of 'trains  is  three  hours  ; 
Ave  ran  over  the  fifty  miles  in  an  hour  and  a  quarter.  We  could 
hardly  believe  our  senses,  that  we  were  in  a  luxurious  carnage, 
flying  along  at  this  rate  in  Asia,  and  going  to  Ephesus !  While 
we  were  confessing  that  the  lazy  swing  of  the  carnage  was  more 
agreeable  than  that  of  the  donkey  or  the  dromedary,  the  train 
pidled  up  at  station  Ayasolook,  once  the  residence  of  the  Sultans 
of  Ayasolook,  and  the  camp  of  Tamerlane,  now  a  cluster  of  cofiee- 
houses  and  railway-offices,  with  a  few  fever-stricken  inhabitants, 
who  prey  upon  travellers,  not  with  Oriental  courtesy,  but  with 
European  insolence. 

On  our  right  was  a  round  hill  surmounted  by  a  Eoman  castle ; 
fi-om  the  hills  on  the  left,  striding  across  the  railway  towards 
Ephesus,  were  the  tall  stone  pillars  of  a  Roman  aqueduct,  the 
brick  arches  and  conductor  nearly  all  fallen  away.  On  the  sum- 
mit of  nearly  every  pillar  a  white,  red-legged  stork  had  built, 
from  sticks  and  grass,  a  high  round  nest,  which  covered  the  top ; 


STORKS  AND  MINARETS.  259 

and  the  bird  stood  in  it  motionless,  a  beautiful  object  at  that 
height  against  the  sky. 

The  station  people  had  not  obeyed  our  telegram  to  furnish 
enough  horses,  aiul  those  of  us  who  were  obliged  to  walk  congrat- 
ulatexl  ourselves  on  the  mistake,  since  the  way  was  as  rough  as 
the  steeds.  The  path  led  over  a  ground  full  of  stone  debris. 
This  was  the  site  of  Ayasolook,  which  had  been  built  out  of  the 
ruins  of  the  old  city ;  most  picturesque  objects  were  the  small 
mosque-tombs  and  minarets,  which  revived  here  the  most  graceful 
forms  and  fancies  of  Saracenic  art.  One,  I  noticed,  which  had 
the  ideal  Persian  arch  and  slender  columns,  Nature  herself  had 
taken  into  loving  care  and  draped  with  clinging  green  and  hang- 
ing vines.  There  were  towers  of  brick,  to  which  age  has  given  a 
rich  tone,  flaring  at  the  top  in  a  curve  that  fascinated  the  eye. 
On  each  tomb,  tower,  and  minaret  the  storks  had  nested,  and 
upon  each  stood  the  mother  looking  down  upon  her  brood. 
About  the  crumbling  sides  of  a  tower,  thus  draped  and  crowned, 
innumerable  swallows  had  built  their  nests,  so  that  it  was  alive 
with  birds,  whose  cheerful  occupation  gave  a  kind  of  pathos  to 
the  human  desertion  and  decay. 

Behind  the  Eoman  castle  stands  the  great  but  ruinous  mosque 
of  Sultan  Selim,  which  was  formerly  the  Church  of  St.  John. 
"We  did  not  turn  aside  for  its  empty  gloiy,  but  to  the  theologian 
or  the  student  of  the  formation  of  Christian  dogmas,  and  of  the 
gladiatorial  spectacles  of  an  ancient  convocation,  there  are  few 
arenas  in  the  East  more  interesting  than  this ;  for  in  this  church 
it  is  supposed  were  held  the  two  councils  of  a.  d.  431  and  449. 
St.  John,  after  his  release  from  Patmos,  passed  the  remainder  of 
his  life  here ;  the  Virgin  Mary  followed  him  to  the  city,  so  favored 
by  the  presence  of  the  first  apostles,  and  here  she  died  and  was 
buried.  Prom  her  entombment,  Ephesus  for  a  long  time  enjoyed 
the  reputation  of  the  City  of  the  Virgin,  until  that  honor  was 
transferred  to  Jerusalem,  where,  however,  her  empty  tomb  soon 
necessitated  her  resurrection  and  assumption,  —  the  subject  which 
inspired  so  many  artists  after  the  revival  of  learning  in  Europe. 
In  the  hill  near  this  church  Mary  Magdalene  was  buried ;  in 
Ephesus  also  reposed  the  body  of  St.  Timothy,  its  first  bishop. 


260  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

This  church  of  St.  John  was  at  some  distance  from  the  heart 
of  the  city,  which  lay  in  the  plain  to  the  south  and  near  the  sea, 
but  in  the  fifth  century  Ephesus  was  a  city  of  churches.  The 
reader  needs  to  remember  that  in  that  century  the  Christian  con- 
troversy had  passed  from  the  nature  of  the  Trinity  to  the  incar- 
nation, and  that  the  first  council  of  Ephesus  was  called  by  the 
emperor  Theodosius  in  the  hope  of  establishing  the  opinion  of  the 
Syrian  Nestorius,  the  primate  of  Constantinople,  who  refused  to 
give  to  the  mother  of  Christ  the  title,  then  come  into  use,  of  the 
Mother  of  God,  and  discriminated  nicely  the  two  natures  of  the 
Saviour.  His  views  were  anathematized  by  Cyril,  the  patriarch 
of  Alexandria,  and  the  dispute  involved  the  entire  East  in  a  fierce 
contest.  In  the  council  convened  of  Greek  bishops,  Nestorius 
had  no  doubt  but  he  would  be  sustained  by  the  weight  of  au- 
thority ;  but  the  prompt  Cyril,  whose  qualities  would  have  found 
a  conspicuous  and  useful  theatre  at  the  head  of  a  Roman  army 
against  the  Scythians,  was  first  on  the  ground,  with  an  abundance 
of  spiritual  and  temporal  arms.  In  reading  of  this  council,  one 
recalls  without  effort  the  once  famous  and  now  historical  con- 
ventions of  the  Democratic  party  of  the  State  of  New  York,  in 
the  days  when  political  salvation,  offered  in  the  creeds  of  the 
"  Hard  Shells  "  and  of  the  "  Soft  Shells,"  was  enforced  by  the 
attendance  of  gangs  of  "  Short  boys  "  and  "  Tammany  boys," 
who  understood  the  use  of  slung-shot  against  heretical  opinions. 
It  is  true  that  Nestorius  had  in  reserve  behind  his  prelates  the 
stout  slaves  of  the  bath  of  Zeuxippus,  but  Cyril  had  secured  the 
alliance  of  the  bishop  of  Ephesus,  and  the  support  of  the  rabble 
of  peasants  and  slaves  who  were  easily  excited  to  jealousy  for  the 
honor  of  the  Virgin  of  their  city ;  and  he  landed  from  Egypt, 
with  his  great  retinue  of  bishops,  a  band  of  merciless  monks  of 
the  Nile,  of  fanatics,  mariners,  and  slaves,  who  took  a  ready 
interest  in  the  theological  discussions  of  those  days.  The  coun- 
cil met  in  this  church,  surrounded  by  the  fierce  if  not  martial 
array  of  CyrU;  deliberations  were  begun  before  the  arrival  of 
the  most  weighty  supporters  of  Nestorius,  —  for  Cyril  anticipated 
the  slow  approach  of  John  of  Antioch  and  his  bishops,  —  and  in 
one  (lay  the  primate  of  Constantinople  was  hastily  deposed  and 


THE  COUNCILS.  —  THE  TEMPLE   OF  DIANA.         261 

cursed,  together  with  his  heresy.  Upon  the  arrival  of  John,  he 
also  formed  a  council,  which  deposed  and  cursed  the  opposite 
party  and  heresy,  and  for  three  months  Ephesus  was  a  scene  of 
clamor  and  bloodshed.  The  cathedral  was  garrisoned,  the  churches 
were  shut  against  the  Nestorians ;  the  imperial  troops  assaulted 
them  and  were  repelled ;  the  whole  city  was  throAvn  into  a  tur- 
moil by  the  encounters  of  the  rival  factions,  each  council  hurled 
its  anathemas  at  the  other,  and  peace  was  only  restored  by  the 
dissolution  of  the  council  by  command  of  the  emperor.  The 
second  session,  in  the  year  449,  was  shorter  and  more  decisive; 
it  made  quick  work  of  the  heresy  of  Nestorius.  Africa  added  to 
its  delegation  of  bullies  and  fanatics  a  band  of  archers ;  the 
heresy  of  the  two  natures  was  condemned  and  anathematized,  — 
"  May  those  who  divide  Christ  be  divided  with  the  sword,  may 
they  be  hewn  in  pieces,  may  they  be  burned  alive,"  —  and  the 
scene  in  the  cathedral  ended  in  a  mob  of  monks  and  soldiers, 
who  trampled  upon  Flavian,  the  then  primate  of  Constantinople, 
so  that  in  three  days  thereafter  he  died  of  his  wounds. 

It  is  as  difficult  to  make  real  now  upon  this  spot  those  fierce 
theologic  wars  of  Ephesus,  as  it  is  the  fabled  exploits  of  Bacchus 
and  Hercules  and  the  Amazons  in  this  valley ;  to  believe  that 
here  were  born  Apollo  and  Diana,  and  that  hither  fled  Latona, 
and  that  great  Pan  lurked  in  its  groves. 

We  presently  came  upon  the  site  of  the  great  Temple  of  Diana, 
recently  identified  by  Mr.  Wood.  We  encountered  on  our  way  a 
cluster  of  stone  huts,  wretched  habitations  of  the  only  representa- 
tives of  the  renowned  capital.  Before  us  was  a  plain  broken  by 
small  hUlocks  and  mounds,  and  strewn  with  cut  and  fractured 
stone.  The  site  of  the  temple  can  be  briefly  and  accurately 
described  as  a  rectangular  excavation,  perhaps  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  wide  by  three  hundred  long  and  twelve  feet  deep,  with 
two  feet  of  water  in  it,  out  of  which  rises  a  stump  of  a  column  of 
granite  and  another  of  marble,  and  two  bases  of  marble.  Eound 
this  hole  are  heaps  of  fractured  stone  and  marble.  In  this 
excavation  Mr.  Wood  found  the  statue  of  Diana,  which  we  may 
hope  is  the  ancient  sacred  image,  guarded  by  the  priests  as  the 
most  precious  treasure  of  the  temple,  and  imposed  upon  the  credu- 


262  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

lity  of  men  as  heaven-descended.  This  is  all  that  remains  of  one 
of  the  Seven  Wonders  of  the  world,  —  a  temple  whose  fame  is  sec- 
ond to  none  in  antiquity  ;  a  temple  seven  times  burned  and  eight 
times  built,  and  always  with  increased  magnificence ;  a  temple 
whose  origin,  referable  doubtless  to  the  Cyclopean  builders  of 
this  coast,  cannot  be  less  than  fifteen  hundred  years  before  our 
era  ;  a  temple  which  still  had  its  votaries  and  its  rites  in  the  fourth 
century.  We  picked  up  a  bit  of  marble  from  its  ruins,  as  a  help 
both  to  memory  and  imagination,  but  we  went  our  way  utterly 
unable  to  conceive  that  there  ever  existed  any  such  person  as 
great  Diana  of  the  Ephesians. 

We  directed  our  steps  over  the  bramble-grown  plain  to  the  hill 
Pion.  I  suppose  Pion  may  have  been  the  acropolis  of  Eplie- 
sus,  the  spot  of  the  earliest  settlement,  and  on  it  and  around  it 
clustered  many  of  the  temples  and  public  buildings.  The  reader 
will  recall  Argos,  and  Athens,  and  Corintli,  and  a  dozen  other 
cities  of  antiquity,  for  which  nature  furnished  in  the  midst  of  a 
plain  such  a  convenient  and  easily  defended  hill-fortress.  On  our 
way  thither  we  walked  amid  mounds  that  form  a  street  of  tombs  ; 
many  of  the  sarcophagi  are  still  in  place,  and  little  injured ;  but 
we  explore  the  weed-hid  ground  with  caution,  for  it  is  full  of  pit- 
faUs. 

North  of  the  hill  Pion  is  a  low  green  valley,  encircled  with 
hills,  and  in  the  face  of  one  of  its  ledges,  accessible  only  by  a 
ladder,  we  were  pointed  out  the  cave  of  the  Seven  Sleepers.  This 
favorite  myth,  which  our  patriotism  has  transferred  to  the  high- 
lands of  the  Hudson  in  a  modified  shape,  took  its  most  popular 
form  in  the  legend  of  the  Seven  Sleepers,  and  this  grotto  at 
Ephesus  was  for  many  centuries  the  object  of  Christian  and  Mos- 
lem pilgrimage.  The  Christian  legend,  that  in  the  time  of  the 
persecution  of  Diocletian  seven  young  men  escaped  to  this  cave 
and  slept  there  two  centuries,  and  awoke  to  find  Christianity  the 
religion  of  the  empire,  was  adopted  and  embellished  by  Moham- 
med. In  his  version,  the  wise  dog  Ketmehr,  or  Al  Eakim  as  the 
Koran  names  him,  becomes  an  important  character. 

"  When  the  young  men,"  says  Abd-el-Atti,  "  go  along  the  side 
of  the  hill  to  the  cave,  the  dog  go  to  follow  them.     They  take  up 


THE  SEVEN  SLEEPERS.  263 

stones  to  make  him  go  back,  for  they  'fraid  of  him  bark,  and  let 
the  people  know  where  they  hide.  But  the  dog  not  to  go  back, 
he  sit  down  on  him  hind,  and  him  look  berry  wise.  By  and  by 
he  speak,  he  say  the  name  of  God. 

" '  How  did  you  know  that  ?  '  ask  him  the  young  men. 

"  '  I  know  it,'  the  dog  say,  '  before  you  born  ! ' 

"  Then  they  see  the  dog  he  wise  by  Allah,  and  know  great  deal, 
and  let  him  to  go  with  'em.  This  dog,  Ketmehr,  he  is  gone,  so 
our  Prophet  say,  to  be  in  Paradise ;  no  other  dog  be  there.  So 
I  hope." 

The  names  of  the  Seven  Sleepers  and  Ketmehr  are  in  great 
talismanic  repute  throughout  the  East ;  they  are  engraved  upon 
swords  and  upon  gold  and  precious  stones,  and  in  Smyrna  you 
may  buy  these  charms  against  evil. 

Keeping  round  the  hill  Pion,  we  reached  the  ruins  of  the  gym- 
nasium, heaps  of  stone  amid  brick  arches,  the  remains  of  an 
enormous  building ;  near  it  is  the  north  gate  of  the  city,  a  fine 
marble  structure,  now  almost  buried.  Still  circling  Pion  we 
found  ourselves  in  a  narrow  valley,  on  the  other  side  of  which 
was  the  long  ridge  of  Conessus,  which  runs  southward  towards 
the  sea.  Conessus  seems  to  have  been  the  burial-place  of  the  old 
town.  This  narrow  valley  is  stuffed  with  remains  of  splendid 
buildings,  of  which  nothing  is  now  to  be  seen  but  heaps  of  fine 
marble,  walls,  capitals,  columns,  in  prodigal  waste.  We  stopped 
to  admire  a  bit  of  carving,  or  to  notice  a  Greek  inscription,  and 
passed  on  to  the  Stadium,  to  the  Little  Theatre,  to  the  tomb  of 
St.  Luke.  On  one  of  the  lintels  of  the  entrance  of  this  tomb, 
in  white  marble,  as  fresh  as  if  carved  yesterday,  is  a  cross,  and 
under  it  the  figure  of  an  Egyptian  ox,  the  emblem  of  that  saint. 

We  emerged  from  this  gorge  to  a  wide  view  of  the  plain,  and  a 
glimpse  of  an  arm  of  the  sea.  On  this  plain  are  the  scattered 
ruins  of  the  old  citj',  brick,  stone,  and  marble,  —  absolute  deso- 
lation. On  the  left,  near  the  sea,  is  a  conical  hill,  crowned  by 
one  of  the  towers  of  the  ancient  wall,  and  dignified  with  the 
name  of  the  "  prison  of  St.  Paul."  In  this  plain  is  neither  life 
nor  cultivation,  but  vegetation  riots  over  the  crumbling  remains 
of  Ephesus,  and  fever  waits  there  its  chance  human  prey.     We 


264  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

stood  on  the  side  of  the  hill  Pion,  amid  the  fallen  columns  and 
heaped  walls  of  its  Great  Theatre.  It  was  to  this  theatre  that  the 
multitude  rushed  when  excited  against  Paul  by  Demetrius,  the 
silversmith,  who  carried  his  religion  into  his  business ;  and  here 
the  companions  of  Paul  endeavored  to  be  heard  and  could  not,  for 
"  all  with  one  voice  about  the  space  of  two  hours  cried  out.  Great 
is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians."  This  amphitheatre  for  fifty  thousand 
spectators  is  scooped  out  of  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  its  tiers  of 
seats  are  still  indicated.  What  a  magnificent  view  they  must  have 
enjoyed  of  the  city  and  the  sea  beyond  ;  for  the  water  then  came 
much  nearer ;  and  the  spectator  who  may  have  wearied  of  the 
strutting  of  the  buskined  heroes  on  the  stage,  or  of  the  monotonous 
chant  of  the  chorus,  could  rest  his  eye  upon  the  purple  slopes  of 
Conessus,  upon  the  colonnades  and  domes  of  the  opulent  city, 
upon  the  blue  waves  that  bore  the  merchants'  ships  of  Rome  and 
Alexandria  and  Berj'tus. 

The  theatre  is  a  mine  of  the  most  exquisite  marbles,  and  we 
left  its  treasures  with  reluctance ;  we  saw  other  ruins,  bases  of 
columns,  the  remains  of  the  vast  city  magazines  for  the  storage  of 
corn,  and  solid  walls  of  huge  stones  once  washed  by  the  sea ;  we 
might  have  wandered  for  days  amid  the  fragments,  but  to  what 
purpose  ? 

At  Ephesus  we  encountered  no  living  thing.  Man  has  de- 
serted it,  silence  reigns  over  the  plain,  nature  slowly  effaces  the 
evidence  of  his  occupation,  and  the  sea  even  slinks  away  from  it. 
No  great  city  that  I  have  seen  is  left  to  such  absolute  desolation  ; 
not  Papstum  in  its  marsh,  not  Thebes  in  its  sand,  not  Ba'albek,  not 
even  Memphis,  swept  clean  as  it  is  of  monuments,  for  its  site  is 
vocal  with  labor  and  bounteous  in  harvests.  Time  was,  doubtless, 
when  gold  pieces  piled  two  deep  on  this  ground  could  not  have 
purchased  it ;  and  the  buyers  or  sellers  never  imagined  that  the 
city  lots  of  Ephesus  could  become  worth  so  little  as  they  are 
to-day. 

If  one  were  disposed  to  muse  upon  the  vagaries  of  human  prog- 
ress, this  would  be  the  spot.  No  civilization,  no  religion,  has  been 
wanting  to  it.  Its  vast  Cyclopean  foundations  were  laid  by  simple 
pagans  ;   it  was  in  the  polytheistic  belief  of  the  Greeks  that  it 


THE  VAGARIES   OF  HUMAN  PROGRESS.  265 

attained  tlie  rank  of  one  of  the  most  polished  and  wealthy  cities 
of  antiquity,  famed  for  iis  arts,  its  schools  of  poetry,  of  painting 
and  sculpture,  of  logic  and  magic,  attracting  to  its  opportunities 
the  devout,  the  seekers  of  pleasure  and  of  wisdom,  the  poets,  the 
men  of  the  world,  the  conquerors  and  the  defeated;  here  Arte- 
misia sheltered  the  children  of  Xerxes  after  the  disaster  of  Salamis ; 
here  Alexander  sat  for  his  portrait  to  ApeUes  (who  was  born  in 
the  city)  when  he  was  retui-ning  from  the  capture  of  Sardis; 
Spartans  and  Athenians  alike,  Lysander  and  Alcibiades,  sought 
Ephesus,  for  it  had  something  for  all ;  Hannibal  here  conferred 
with  Antiochus ;  Cicero  was  entertained  with  games  by  the  people 
when  he  was  on  his  way  to  his  province  of  Cilicia ;  and  Antony 
in  the  character  of  inebriate  Bacchus,  accompanied  by  Cleopatra, 
crowned  vnih  flowers  and  attended  by  bands  of  effeminate  musi- 
cians, made  here  one  of  the  pageants  of  his  folly.  In  fact,  scarcely 
any  famous  name  of  antiquity  is  wanting  to  the  adornment  of  this 
hospitable  city.  Under  the  religion  of  Christ  it  has  had  the  good 
fortune  to  acquire  equal  celebrity,  thanks  to  the  residence  of 
Paul,  the  tent-maker,  and  to  its  conspicuous  position  at  the  head 
of  the  seven  churches  of  Asia.  From  Ephesus  went  forth  the 
news  of  the  gospel,  as  formerly  had  spread  the  rites  of  Diana,  and 
Christian  churches  and  schools  of  philosophy  succeeded  the  tem- 
ples and  gymnasia  of  the  polytheists.  And,  in  turn,  the  cross 
was  supplanted  by  the  crescent ;  but  it  was  in  the  day  when 
Islamism  was  no  longer  a  vital  faith,  and  except  a  few  beautiful 
ruins  the  Moslem  occupation  has  contributed  nothing  to  the  glory 
of  Ephesus.  And  now  paganism,  Christianity,  and  Moslemism 
seem  alike  to  have  forsaken  the  weary  theatre  of  so  much  brilliant 
history.  As  we  went  out  to  the  station,  by  the  row  of  booths 
and  coffee-shops,  a  modern  Greek,  of  I  do  not  know  what  relig- 
ion, offered  to  sell  me  an  image  of  I  do  not  know  what  faith. 
There  is  great  curiosity  at  present  about  the  relics  and  idols  of 
dead  religions,  and  a  brisk  manufacture  of  them  has  sprung  up  ; 
it  is  in  the  hands  of  sceptics  who  indifferently  propagate  the 
images  of  the  Virgin  Mary  or  of  the  chaste  huntress  Diana. 

The  swift  Asiatic  train  took  us  back  to  Smyrna  in  a  golden 
sunset.    We  had  been  warned  by  the  agent  not  to  tany  a  moment 
12 


266  IN   THE  LEVANT. 

beyond  eight  o'clock,  and  we  hurried  breathless  to  the  boat. 
Fortunately  the  steamer  had  not  sailed ;  we  were  in  time,  and 
should  have  been  if  we  had  remained  on  shore  till  eight  the  next 
morning.  All  night  long  we  were  loading  freight,  with  an  intol- 
erable rattling  of  chains,  puffing  of  the  donkey-engine,  and  swear- 
ing of  boatmen  ;  after  the  novelty  of  swearing  in  an  Oriental 
tongue  has  worn  off,  it  is  no  more  enjoyable  than  any  other  kind 
of  profanity. 


XXII. 

THE   ADVENTUREKS. 


W"E  sailed  away  from  Smyrna  Sunday  morning,  with  the 
Achille  more  crowded  than  when  we  entered  that  port.  The 
second-class  passengers  still  further  encroached  upon  the  first- 
class.  The  Emir  of  Damascus,  Avith  all  his  rugs  and  beds,  had 
been  pushed  farther  towards  the  stem,  and  more  harems  occu- 
pied temporary  pens  on  our  deck,  and  drew  away  our  attention 
from  the  natural  scenery. 

The  venerable,  white-bearded,  Greek  bishop  of  Smyrna  was  a 
passenger,  also  the  tall  noble-looking  pasha  of  that  city,  just 
relieved  and  ordered  to  Constantinople,  as  pashas  are  continually, 
at  the  whim  of  the  Sultan.  We  had  three  pashas  on  board,  —  one 
recalled  from  Haifa,  who  had  been  only  twenty  days  at  his  post. 
The  pasha  of  Smyrna  was  accompanied  by  his  family,  described 
on  the  register  as  his  wife  and  "  four  others,"  an  indefinite 
expression  to  define  an  indefinite  condition.  The  wife  had  a 
room  below  ;  the  "  four  others  "  were  penned  up  in  a  cushioned 
area  on  the  saloon  deck,  and  there  they  squatted  all  day,  veiled 
and  robed  in  white,  poor  things,  without  the  least  occupation  for 
hand  or  mind.  Near  them,  other  harems  of  Greeks  and  Turks, 
women,  babies,  slaves,  all  in  an  Oriental  mess,  ate  curds  and 
green  lettuce. 

We  coasted  along  the  indented,  picturesque  shore  of  Asia,  hav- 
ing in  view  the  mountains  about  ancient  Pergamus,  the  seat  of 
one  of  the  seven  churches ;  and  before  noon  came  to  Mitylene, 
the  ancient  Lesbos,  a  large  island  which  bears  another  Mount 
Olympus,  and  cast  anchor  in  the  bay  upon  which  the  city  stands. 


268  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

By  the  bend  of  the  bay  and  the  opposite  coast,  the  town  is 
charmingly  land-locked.  The  site  of  Mitylene,  like  so  many  of 
these  island  cities,  is  an  amphitheatre,  and  the  mountain-slopes, 
green  and  blooming  with  fruit-trees,  are  dotted  with  white  houses 
and  villages.  The  scene  is  Italian  rather  than  Oriental,  and  gives 
one  the  general  impression  of  Cast^Uamare  or  Sorrento  ;  but  the 
city  is  prettier  to  look  at  than  to  explore,  as  its  broad  and  clean 
streets,  its  ordinary  houses  and  European-dressed  inhabitants, 
take  us  out  of  our  ideal  voyaging,  and  into  the  regions  of  the 
commonplace.  The  shops  were  closed,  and  the  country  people, 
who  in  all  countries  appear  to  derive  an  unexplained  pleasure  in 
wandering  about  the  streets  of  a  city  hand  in  hand,  were  seeking 
this  mild  recreation.  A  youthful  Jew,  to  whom  the  Sunday  was 
naught,  under  pretence  of  showing  us  something  antique,  led  us 
into  the  den  of  a  Greek,  to  whom  it  was  also  naught,  and  whose 
treasures  were  bags  of  defaced  copper  coins  of  the  Roman  period. 

I'pon  the  point  above  the  city  is  a  fine  mediaeval  fortress,  now 
a  Turkish  fort,  where  we  encountered,  in  the  sentinel  at  the  gate, 
the  only  official  in  the  Orient  who  ever  refused  backsheesh  ;  I  do 
not  know  what  his  idea  is.  From  the  walls  we  looked  upon  the 
blue  strait,  the  circling,  purple  hills  of  Asia,  upon  islands,  pretty 
villages,  and  distant  mountains,  soft,  hazy,  serrated,  in  short, 
upon  a  scene  of  poetrj'  and  peace,  into  which  the  ancient  stone 
l)astion  by  the  harbor,  which  told  of  days  of  peril,  and  a  ruined 
aqueduct  struggling  down  the  hill  back  of  the  town,  —  the  rem- 
nant of  more  vigorous  days,  —  brought  no  disturbance. 

In  Lesbos  we  are  at  the  source  of  lyric  poetry,  the  .^olian 
spring  of  Greece ;  here  Alcaeus  was  born.  Here  we  come  upon 
the  footsteps  of  Sappho.  We  must  go  back  to  a  period  when 
this  and  all  the  islands  of  these  heavenly  seas  were  blooming 
masses  of  vegetation,  the  hills  hung  with  forests,  the  slopes  pur- 
ple with  the  vine,  the  valleys  laughing  with  flowers  and  fruit,  and 
everywhere  the  primitive,  joyful  Greek  life.  No  doubt,  manners 
were  somewhat  nide,  and  passions,  love,  and  hate,  and  revenge, 
were  frankly  exhibited ;  but  in  all  the  homely  life  ran  a  certain 
culture,  which  seems  to  us  beautiful  even  in  the  refinement  of  this 
shamefaced  age.     The  hardy  youth  of  the  islands  sailed  into  far 


FOOTSTEPS   OF  SAPPHO.  269 

seas,  and  in  exchange  for  the  bounty  of  their  soil  brought  back 
foreign  fabrics  of  luxury.  We  know  that  Lesbos  was  no  stranger 
to  the  Athenian  influence,  its  scholars  had  heard  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle, and  the  warriors  of  Athens  respected  it  both  as  a  foe  and 
an  ally.  Charakos,  a  brother  of  Sappho,  went  to  Egypt  wath  a 
ship  full  of  wine,  and  returned  with  the  beautiful  slave  Doricha, 
as  part  at  least  of  the  reward  of  his  venture. 

After  the  return  of  Sappho  and  her  husband  from  their  flight 
into  Sicily,  the  poet  lived  for  many  years  at  IMitylene ;  but  she 
is  supposed  to  have  been  bom  in  Eresso,  on  the  southwesterir 
point  of  the  island,  where  the  ruins  of  the  acropolis  and  remains 
of  a  sea-wall  still  mark  the  site  of  the  famous  town.  At  any  rate, 
she  lived  there,  with  her  husband  Kerkylas,  a  landed  proprietor 
and  a  person  of  consequence,  like  a  dame  of  noble  birth  and 
gentle  breeding  as  she  was ;  and  in  her  verse  we  have  a  glimpse 
of  her  walking  upon  the  sandy  shore,  with  her  little  daughter,  the 
beautiful  child  whom  she  would  not  give  up  for  the  kingdom  of 
Lydia,  nor  for  heavenly  Lesbos  itself.  That  Sappho  was  beauti- 
ful as  her  image  on  the  ancient  coins  represents  her,  and  that  she 
was  consumed  by  passion  for  a  handsome  youth,  the  world  likes 
to  believe.  But  Maximus  of  Tyre  says  that  she  was  small  and 
dark ;  —  graces  are  not  so  plenty,  even  in  heaven,  that  genius 
and  beauty  can  be  lavished  upon  one  person.  We  are  prone  to 
insist  that  the  poet  who  revels  in  imagination  and  sounds  the 
depth  of  passion  is  revealing  his  own  heart,  and  that  the  tale  that 
seems  so  real  must  be  a  personal  experience.  The  little  glimpse 
we  have  of  Sappho's  life  does  not  warrant  us  to  find  in  it  the 
passionate  tempest  of  her  burning  lyrics,  nor  is  it  consistent  with 
her  social  position  that  she  should  expose  upon  the  market-place 
her  passion  for  the  handsome  Phaon,  like  a  troubadour  of  the 
Middle  Ages  or  a  Zingara  of  Bohemia.  If  that  consuming  fire 
was  only  quenched  in  the  sea  at  the  foot  of  "  Leucadia's  far- 
projecting  rock  of  woe,"  at  least  our  emotion  may  be  tempered 
by  the  soothing  knowledge  that  the  leap  must  have  been  taken 
Avhen  the  enamored  singer  had  passed  her  sixtieth  year. 

We  did  not  see  them  at  Mitylene,  but  travellers  into  the  in- 
terior speak  of  the  beautiful  women,  the  descendants  of  kings' 


270  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

daughters,  the  rewards  of  Grecian  heroes ;  near  old  Eresso  the 
women  preserve  the  type  of  that  indestructible  beauty,  and  in 
the  large  brown  eyes,  voluptuous  busts,  and  elastic  gait  one  may 
deem  that  he  sees  the  originals  of  the  antique  statues. 

Another  famous  woman  flits  for  a  moment  before  us  at  Lesbos. 
It  is  the  celebrated  Empress  Irene,  whose  cruelty  was  hardly 
needed  to  preserve  a  name  that  her  talent  could  have  perpetuated. 
An  Athenian  virgin  and  an  orphan,  at  seventeen  she  became  the 
wife  of  Leo  IV.  (a.  d.  780),  and  at  length  the  ruler  of  the 
Eastern  Empire.  Left  the  guardian  of  the  empire  and  her  son 
Constantine  VI.,  she  managed  both,  until  the  lad  in  his  maturity 
sent  his  mother  into  retirement.  The  restless  woman  conspired 
against  him ;  he  fled,  was  captured  and  brought  to  the  palace  and 
lodged  in  the  porphyry  chamber  where  he  flrst  had  seen  the  light, 
and  where  he  last  saw  it ;  for  his  eyes  were  put  out  by  the  order 
of  Irene.  His  very  existence  was  forgotten  in  the  depths  of  the 
palace,  and  for  several  years  the  ambitious  mother  reigned  with 
brilliancy  and  the  respect  of  distant  potentates,  until  a  conspir- 
acy of  eunuchs  overturned  her  power,  and  she  was  banished  to 
Lesbos.  Here  history,  which  delights  in  these  strokes  of  poetic 
justice,  represents  the  empress  earning  her  bread  by  the  use  of 
her  distaff. 

As  we  came  from  Mitylene  into  the  open  sea,  the  view  was  sur- 
passingly lovely,  islands  green  and  poetic,  a  coast  ever  retreating 
and  advancing,  as  if  in  coquetry  with  the  blue  waves,  purple 
robing  the  hills,  —  a  voyage  for  poets  and  lotus-eaters.  We  were 
coming  at  night  to  Tenedos,  to  which  the  crafty  Greeks  withdrew 
their  fleet  when  they  pretended  to  abandon  the  siege,  and  to  old 
Troy,  opposite ;  we  shoidd  be  able  to  feel  their  presence  in  the 
darkness. 

Our  steamer,  as  we  have  intimated,  was  a  study  of  nationalities 
and  languages,  as  well  as  of  manners.  We  were  English,  Amer- 
ican, Greek,  Italian,  Turkish,  Arab,  Russian,  French,  Armenian, 
Egyptian,  Jew,  Georgian,  Abyssinian,  Nubian,  German,  Koor- 
land,  Persian,  Kurd  ;  one  might  talk  with  a  person  just  from 
Mecca  or  Medina,  from  Bagdad,  from  Calcutta,  from  every  Greek 
or  Turkish  island,  and  from  most  of  the  capitals  of  Eui'ope.     A 


AN   ODD  ASSEMBLY.  271 

couple  of  Capuchins,  tonsured,  in  brown  serge  with  hanging 
crosses,  walked  up  and  down  amid  the  throng  of  Christians,  Mos- 
lems, and  pagans,  withdrawn  from  the  world  while  in  it,  like  be- 
ings of  a  new  sex.  There  was  a  couple  opposite  us  at  table  whom 
we  could  not  make  out,  —  either  recently  married  or  recently 
eloped,  the  man  apparently  a  Turkish  officer,  and  his  companion 
a  tall,  showy  woman,  you  might  say  a  Frenchman's  idea  of  physi- 
cal beauty,  a  little  like  a  wax  Madonna,  but  with  nothing  holy 
about  her ;  said  by  some  to  be  a  Circassian,  by  others  to  be  a 
French  grisette  on  an  Eastern  tour ;  but  she  spoke  Italian,  and 
might  be  one  of  the  Continental  countesses. 

The  square  occupied  by  the  emir  and  his  suite  —  a  sort  of 
bazaar  of  rugs  and  narghilehs  —  had  music  all  day  long  ;  a  solo- 
ist, on  three  notes,  singing,  in  the  Aral)  drawl,  an  unending  impro- 
vised ballad,  and  accompanying  himself  on  the  mandolin.  When 
we  go  to  look  at  and  listen  to  him,  the  musician  betrays  nei- 
ther self-consciousness  nor  pride,  unless  you  detect  the  latter  in 
a  superior  smile  that  plays  about  his  lips,  as  he  throws  back 
his  head  and  lets  his  voice  break  into  a  falsetto.  It  probably 
does  not  even  occur  to  his  Oriental  conceit  that  he  does  well,  — 
that  his  race  have  taken  for  granted  a  thousand  years,  —  and  he 
could  not  be  instructed  by  the  orchestra  of  Von  Bulow,  nor  be 
astonished  by  the  Lohengrin  of  Wagner. 

Among  the  adventurers  on  board  —  we  all  had  more  or  less  the 
appearance  of  experiments  in  that  odd  assembly  —  I  particularly 
liked  the  French  prestidlgitateur  Caseneau,  for  Ms  bold  eye,  utter 
self-possession,  and  that  indefinable  varnish  upon  him,  which  be- 
longed as  much  to  his  dress  as  to  his  manner,  and  suggested  the 
gentleman  without  concealing  the  adventurer.  He  had  a  taste  for 
antiquities,  and  wore  some  antique  gems,  which  had  I  know  not 
what  mysterious  about  them,  as  if  he  had  inherited  them  from  an 
Ephesian  magician  or  a  Saracenic  doctor  of  the  black  art.  At  the 
table  after  dinner,  surrounded  by  French  and  Italians,  the  con- 
jurer exhibited  some  tricks  at  cards.  I  dare  say  they  were  not 
extraordinary,  yet  they  pleased  me  just  as  well  as  the  manifesta- 
tions of  the  spiritists.  One  of  them  I  noted.  The  trickster  was 
blindfolded.     A  gentleman  counted  out  a  pack  of  cards,  and  while 


272  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

doing  so  mentally  fixed  upon  one  of  them  by  number.  Caseneau 
took  the  pack,  stiU  blinded,  and  threw  out  the  card  the  gentleman 
had  thought  of.  The  experiment  was  repeated  by  sceptics,  who 
suspected  a  confederate,  but  the  result  was  always  the  same. 

The  Circassian  beauty  turned  out  to  be  a  Jewess  from  Smyrna. 
I  believe  the  Jewesses  of  that  luxurious  city  imitate  all  the  kinds 
of  beauty  in  the  world. 

Ill  the  evening  the  Italians  were  grouped  around  the  tables  in 
the  saloon,  upon  which  cards  were  cast  about,  matched,  sorted, 
and  redistributed,  and  there  were  little  piles  of  silver  at  the  cor- 
ners, the  occasional  chinking  of  which  appeared  to  add  to  the  in- 
terest of  the  amusement.  On  deck  the  English  and  Americans 
were  singing  the  hymns  of  the  Protestant  faith  ;  and  in  the  lull 
of  the  strains  of  "  O  mother  dear,  Jerusalem,"  you  might  hear 
the  twang  of  strings  and  the  whine  of  some  Arab  improvisatore 
on  the  forward  deck,  and  the  chink  of  changing  silver  below.  We 
were  making  our  way  through  a  superb  night,  — a  thousand  people 
packed  so  closely  that  you  could  not  move  without  stepping  into 
a  harem  or  a  mass  of  Greek  pilgrims,  —  singing  hymns,  gambling, 
listening  to  a  recital  of  the  deeds  of  Antar,  over  silver  waves,  under 
a  flooding  moon,  and  along  the  dim  shores  of  Asia.  That  mys- 
terious continent  lay  in  the  obscurity  of  the  past ;  here  and  there 
solitary  lights,  from  some  shepherd's  hut  in  the  hills  or  fortress 
casemate  by  the  shore,  were  the  rents  in  the  veil  through  which 
we  saw  antiquity. 


XXIII. 

THEOUGH  THE  DARDANELLES. 


THE  AcJiille,  whicli  has  a  nose  for  freight,  but  none  for  poetry, 
did  not  stop  at  Tenedos,  puffed  steadily  past  the  plain  of 
Troy,  turned  into  the  broad  opening  of  the  Dardanelles,  and  by 
daylight  was  anchored  midway  between  the  Two  Castles.  On 
such  a  night,  if  ever,  one  might  see  the  evolution  of  shadowy 
armies  upon  the  windy  plain,  —  if,  indeed,  this  conspicuous  site 
was  anything  more  than  the  theatre  of  Homer's  creations,  —  the 
spectators  on  the  walls  of  Ilium,  the  Greeks  hastily  embarking  on 
their  ships  for  Tenedos,  the  joyful  procession  that  drew  the  fatal 
gift  into  the  impregnable  walls. 

There  is  a  strong  current  southward  through  the  Dardanelles, 
which  swung  the  vessel  round  as  we  came  to  anchor.  The  forts 
which,  with  their  heavy  modern  guns,  completely  command  this 
strait,  are  something  less  than  a  mile  and  a  half  apart,  and  near 
each  is  a  large  and  handsome  town,  —  Khilid-bahri  on  the  Euro- 
pean shore  and  Chanak-Kalesi  on  the  Asiatic.  The  latter  name 
signifies  the  pottery-castle,  and  is  derived  from  the  chief  manu- 
factory of  the  place ;  the  town  of  a  couple  of  thousand  houses, 
gayly  painted  and  decorated  in  lively  colors,  lies  upon  a  sandy  flat 
and  presents  a  very  cheerful  appearance.  It  is  a  great  Asiatic 
entrepot  for  European  products,  and  consular  flags  attest  its  com- 
mercial importance. 

When  I  came  upon  deck  its  enterprising  traders  had  already 

boarded  the  steamer,  and  encumbered  it  with  their  pottery,  which 

found  a  ready  market  with  the  pilgrims,  for  it  is  both  cheap  and 

ugly.     Perhaps  we  should  rather  say  fantastic  than  ugly.     You 

12*  E 


274  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

see  specimens  of  it  all  over  the  East,  and  in  the  bazaars  of  Cairo, 
Jerusalem,  and  Damascus  it  may  be  offered  you  as  something  rare. 
Whatever  the  vessel  is, — a  pitcher,  cup,  vase,  jar,  or  cream-pot, — 
its  form  is  either  that  of  some  impossible  animal,  some  gjiffin,  or 
dragon,  or  dog  of  the  underworld,  or  its  spout  is  the  neck  and 
head  of  some  fantastic  monster.  The  ware  is  painted  in  the  most 
startling  reds,  greens,  yellows,  and  blacks,  and  sometimes  gilt, 
and  then  glazed.  It  is  altogether  hideous,  and  fascinating  enough 
to  drive  the  majolica  out  of  favor. 

Above  these  two  towns  the  strait  expands  into  a  sort  of  bay, 
formed  on  the  north  by  a  promontory  jutting  out  from  the  Asiatic 
shore,  and  upon  this  promontory  it  is  now  agreed  stood  old 
Abydos ;  it  is  occupied  by  a  fort  which  grimly  regards  a  corre- 
sponding one  on  the  opposite  shore,  not  a  mile  distant.  Here 
Leander  swam  to  Hero,  Byron  to  aquatic  fame,  and  here  Xerxes 
laid  his  bridge.  All  this  is  plain  to  be  seen ;  this  is  the  nar- 
rowest part  of  the  passage ;  exactly  opposite  this  sloping  site  of 
Abydos  is  a  depression  between  two  high  cliffs,  the  only  point 
where  the  Persian  could  have  rested  the  European  extremity  of 
his  bridge ;  and  it  surely  requires  no  stretch  of  the  imagination 
to  see  Hero  standing  upon  this  projecting  point  holding  the  torch 
for  her  lover. 

Tlie  shore  is  very  pretty  each  side,  not  bold,  but  quiet  river 
scenery ;  and  yet  there  is  a  contrast :  on  the  Asiatic  horizon  are 
mountains,  rising  behind  each  other,  while  the  narrow  peninsula, 
the  Thracian  ("hersonesus  of  the  ancients,  which  forms  the  western 
bank  of  the  Dardanelles,  offers  only  a  range  of  moderate  hills. 
What  a  beautiful  stream,  indeed,  is  this,  and  how  fond  history 
has  been  of  enacting  its  spectacles  upon  it !  How  the  civilizations 
of  the  East  and  West,  in  a  continual  flow  and  reflow,  push  each 
other  across  it !  With  a  sort  ot  periodic  regidarity  it  is  the  scene 
of  a  great  movement,  and  from  age  to  age  the  destinies  of  the 
race  have  seemed  to  hang  upon  its  possession ;  and  from  time  to 
time  the  attention  of  the  Avorld  is  concentrated  upon  this  water- 
street  between  two  continents.  Under  whatever  name,  the  Ori- 
ental civilization  has  been  a  misfortune,  and  the  Western  a  blessing 
to  the  border-land ;  and  how  narrowly  has  Europe,  more  than 


THE  NEW  DAY.  275 

once,  from  Xerxes  to  Chosroes,  from  Omar  to  tlie  Osmanlis, 
seemed  to  escape  the  torrent  of  Eastern  slavery.  Once  the  cul- 
ture of  Greece  passed  these  limits,  and  annexed  all  Asia  Minor 
and  the  territory  as  far  as  the  Euphrates  to  the  empire  of  intel- 
ligence. Wlio  shall  say  that  the  day  is  not  at  hand  when  the 
ancient  movement  of  free  thought,  if  not  of  Grecian  art  and  arms, 
is  about  to  be  renewed,  and  Europe  is  not  again  to  impose  its 
laws  and  manners  upon  Little  Asia  ?  The  conquest,  which  one 
sees  going  on  under  his  eyes,  is  not  indeed  with  the  pomp  of 
armies,  but  by  the  more  powerful  and  enduring  might  of  com- 
merce, intercourse,  and  the  weight  of  a  world's  opinion  diffused 
by  travel  and  literature.  The  Osmanli  sits  supinely  and  watches 
the  change ;  the  Greeks,  the  rajahs  of  all  religions,  establish 
schools,  and  the  new  generation  is  getting  ready  for  the  revolu- 
tion ;  the  Turk  does  not  care  for  schools.  That  it  may  be  his 
fate  to  abandon  European  Turkey  and  even  Constantinople,  he 
admits.  But  it  is  plain  that  if  he  goes  thus  far  he  must  go 
farther;  and  that  he  must  surrender  a  good  part  of  the  Roman 
Eastern  Empire.  Eor  any  one  can  see  that  the  Hellespont  could 
not  be  occupied  by  two  powers,  and  that  it  is  no  more  possible 
to  divide  the  control  of  the  Bosphorus  than  it  is  that  of  the 
Hudson  or  the  Thames. 

The  morning  was  cold,  and  the  temperature  as  well  as  the 
sky  admonished  us  that  we  were  passing  out  of  the  warm  lati- 
tude. Twenty-five  miles  from  the  Chang  and  Eng  forts  we 
passed  near  but  did  not  call  at  Gallipoli,  an  ancient  city  with 
few  antiquities,  but  of  great  strategic  importance.  Whoever 
holds  it  has  the  key  to  Constantinople  and  the  Black  Sea ;  it  was 
seized  by  the  Moslems  in  the  thirteenth  century  before  they  im- 
posed the  religion  of  the  Koran  upon  the  city  of  Constantine,  and 
it  was  early  occupied  by  the  English  and  French,  in  1854,  in  the 
war  that  secured  that  city  to  the  successor  of  the  Prophet. 

Entering  upon  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  the  "  vexed  Propontis," 
we  had  fortunately  smootb  water  but  a  cold  north-wind.  The 
Propontis  has  enjoyed  a  nauseous  reputation  with  all  mai'iners, 
ancient  and  modern.  I  don't  know  that  its  form  has  anything  to 
do  with  it,  but  if  the  reader  will  take  the  trouble  to  consult  a 


276  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

map,  he  will  see  how  nearly  this  bag  of  water,  with  its  two  ducts, 
the  Bosphorus  and  the  Hellespont,  resembles  a  human  stomach. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  in  the  voyage  from  GaUipoli  to  Con- 
stantinople, except  the  island  of  Marmora,  famous  for  the  quar- 
ries which  furnish  marbles  for  the  palaces  of  the  Bosphorus  and 
for  Eyoub  and  Scutari,  the  two  great  cities  of  the  dead.  We 
passed  near  enough  to  distinguish  clearly  its  fine  perpendicular 
cliffs. 

It  was  dark  before  we  saw  the  lights  of  Stamboul  rise  out  of 
the  water ;  it  is  impossible,  at  night,  to  enter  the  Golden  Horn 
through  the  mazes  of  shipping,  and  we  cast  anchor  outside.  The 
mile  or  two  of  gas-lights  along  the  promontory  of  the  old  city 
and  the  gleams  upon  the  coast  of  ancient  Chalcedon  were  impres- 
sive and  exciting  to  the  imagination,  but,  owing  to  the  lateness 
of  our  an'ival,  we  lost  all  the  emotions  which  have  struck  other 
travellers  anything  but  dumb  upon  coming  in  sight  of  the  capital 
of  the  Moslem  Empire. 


XXIV. 

CONSTANTINOPLE. 


THE  capital  whicli  we  know  as  Constantinople,  lying  in  two 
continents,  presents  itself  as  three  cities.  The  long,  horn- 
shaped  promontory,  between  the  Sea  of  Marmora  and  the  Golden 
Horn,  is  the  site  of  ancient  Byzantium,  which  Constantine  bap- 
tized with  his  own  name,  and  which  the  Turks  call  Stamboul. 
The  ancient  city  was  on  the  eastern  extremity,  now  knoAvn  as 
Seraglio  Point ;  its  important  position  was  always  recognized, 
and  it  was  sharply  contended  for  by  the  Spartans,  the  Athenians, 
the  Macedonians,  and  the  Persians.  Like  the  city  of  Eomulus,  it 
occupies  seven  hills,  and  its  noble  heights  are  conspicuous  from 
afar  by  sea  or  land.  In  the  fourth  century  it  was  surrounded  by 
a  wall,  which  followed  the  water  on  three  sides,  and  ran  across 
the  base  of  the  promontory,  over  four  miles  from  the  Seven 
Towers  on  the  Propontis  to  the  Cemetery  of  Eyoub  on  the 
Golden  Horn.  The  land-wall,  whicb  so  many  times  saved  the 
effeminate  city  from  the  barbarians  of  the  north  and  the  Saracens 
of  Arabia,  stands  yet  with  its  battered  towers  and  score  of  crum- 
bling gates. 

The  second  city,  on  a  blunt  promontory  between  the  Golden 
Horn  and  the  Bosphorus,  overlooks  the  ancient  Byzantium,  and  is 
composed  of  three  districts,  —  Galata  and  Tophanna,  on  the  water 
and  climbing  up  the  hill ;  and  Pera,  which  crowns  the  summit. 
Galata  was  a  commercial  settlement  of  the  thirteenth  century; 
Pera  is  altogether  modem. 

The  third  city  is  Scutai-i,  exactly  opposite  the  mouth  of  the 
Golden  Horn,  and  a  little  north  of  ancient  Chalcedon,  which  was 


278  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

for  over  a  thousand  years  the  camp  of  successive  besieging  armies, 
Georgians,  Persians,  Saracens,  ami  Turks. 

The  city  of  the  Crescent,  like  a  veiled  beauty  of  the  harem,  did 
not  at  once  disclose  to  us  its  charms.  It  was  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning  on  the  eleventh  day  of  blooming  May,  that  we  landed  on 
the  dirty  quay  of  Tophanna.  The  morning  was  cloudy,  cold, 
misty,  getting  its  weather  from  the  Black  Sea,  and  during  the  day 
rain  fell  in  a  very  Occidental  dreariness.  Through  the  mist 
loomed  the  heights  of  Seraglio  Point ;  and  a  hundred  minaret 
peaks  and  domes  appeared  to  float  in  the  air  above  the  veiled  city. 
Along  the  floating  lower  bridge,  across  the  Golden  Horn,  poured 
an  unceasing  procession  of  spectres ;  caiques  were  shooting  about 
in  every  direction,  steamers  for  the  Bosphorus,  for  Scutari,  for 
the  Islands,  were  momently  arriving  and  departing  from  their  sta- 
tions below  the  bridge,  and  the  huge  bidk  of  the  Turkish  iron- 
clads could  be  discerned  at  their  anchorage  before  the  palace  of 
Beshiktash.  The  scene  was  animated,  but  there  was  not  visible 
as  much  shipping  as  1  had  expected  to  see  in  this  great  port. 

The  customs'  official  on  the  quay  was  of  a  very  inquisitive  turn 
of  mind,  but  we  could  excuse  him  on  the  ground  of  his  age  and 
ignorance,  for  he  was  evidently  endeavoring  to  repair  the  neg- 
lected opportunities  of  his  youth.  Our  large  luggage  had  gone 
to  the  custom-house  in  charge  of  Abd-el-Atti,  who  has  a  genius 
for  free-trade,  and  only  our  small  parcels  and  hand-bags  were  at 
the  mercy  of  the  inspector  on  the  quay.  But  he  insisted  upon 
opening  every  bag  and  investigating  every  article  of  the  toilet  and 
garment  of  the  night ;  he  even  ripped  open  a  feather  pillow  which 
one  of  the  ladies  carried  with  her,  and  neither  the  rain  on  the 
open  dock  nor  our  respectable  appearance  saved  our  effects  from 
his  most  searching  attentions.  The  discoveries  of  General  di  Ces- 
nola  and  the  interest  that  Europeans  take  in  antiquities  have 
recently  convinced  the  Turks  that  these  relics  must  have  some 
value,  and  an  order  had  been  issued  to  seize  and  confiscate  all 
curiosities  of  this  sort.  I  trembled,  therefore,  when  the  inspector 
got  his  hands  upon  a  baby's  inu'sing-bottle,  which  I  had  brought 
from  Cyprus,  where  it  had  been  used  by  some  PliaMiician  bjiby 
probably  three  thousand  years  ago.  The  fellow  tnrned  it  round 
and  regarded  it  with  serious  ignorance  and  doubt . 


TURKISH   CUSTOMS.  279 

"  What  is  tliat  ?  "  lie  asked  Achmed. 

"  0,  that 's  nothing  but  a  piece  of  pottery,  something  for  a 
shild  without  his  mother,  I  think,  —  it  is  nothing,  not  worth  two 
paras." 

The  confiscator  of  antiquities  evidently  had  not  the  slightest 
knowledge  of  his  business;  he  hesitated,  but  Achmed's  perfect 
indifference  of  manner  determined  him,  and  he  slowly  put  the 
precious  relic  back  into  the  box.  The  inspector  parted  from  us 
with  regret,  but  we  left  him  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  virtue  unas- 
sailed  by  the  least  bribe,  —  an  unusual,  and,  I  imagine,  an  unwel- 
come possession  in  this  region. 

Donkeys  were  not  to  be  had,  nor  carriages,  and  we  climbed  on 
foot  the  very  steep  hill  to  the  hotel  in  Pera ;  ascending  roughly 
paved,  crooked  streets,  lined  with  rickety  houses,  and  occasionally 
mounting  stairs  for  a  mile  through  a  quarter  that  has  the  shabbi- 
ness  but  not  the  picturesqueness  of  the  Orient.  A  squad  of  por- 
ters seized  our  luggage  and  bore  it  before  us.  The  porters  are 
the  beasts  of  burden,  and  most  of  thera  wear  heavy  saddles,  upon 
which  boxes  and  trunks  can  be  strapped.  No  drays  were  visible. 
Heavy  burdens,  hogsheads,  barrels,  and  cases  of  goods  were 
borne  between  two  long  stout  poles  carried  by  four  athletic  men ; 
as  they  move  along  the  street,  staggering  under  the  heavy  load, 
everybody  is  obliged,  precipitately,  to  make  way  for  them,  for 
their  impetus  is  such  that  they  cannot  check  their  career.  We 
see  these  gigantic  fellows  at  every  street-corner,  with  their  long 
poles,  waiting  for  a  job.  Sedan-chairs,  which  were  formerly  in 
much  request,  are  gradually  disappearing,  though  there  is  nothing 
at  present  to  exactly  take  the  place  of  these  lumbering  convey- 
ances. Carnages  increase  every  year,  but  they  are  expensive,  and 
they  can  only  ascend  the  height  of  Pera  by  a  long  circuit.  The 
place  of  the  sedan  and  the  carriage  is,  however,  to  some  extent 
supplied  by  a  railway  in  Galata,  the  cars  of  which  are  drawn  up 
by  a  stationary  engine.  And  on  each  side  of  the  Golden  Horn  is 
a  horse-railway,  running  wherever  the  ground  is  practicable. 

To  one  coming  from  the  West,  I  suppose  that  Constantinople 
would  present  a  very  mixed  and  bizarre  appearance,  and  tiiat  he 
would  be  impressed  by  the  silence  of  the  busiest  streets,  in  which 


280  IN   THE  LEVANT. 

the  noise  of  wheels  and  the  hum  of  a  Western  capital  is  wanting. 
But  to  one  coming  from  the  East,  Galata  and  Pera  seem  a  rather 
vulgarized  European  town.  The  Frank  dress  predominates,  al- 
though it  is  relieved  by  the  red  fez,  which  the  Turks  generally 
and  many  Europeans  wear.  Variety  enough  there  is  in  costumes, 
but  the  Grecian,  the  Bulgarian,  the  Albanian,  etc.,  have  taken  the 
place  of  the  purely  Oriental ;  and  the  traveUer  in  the  Turkish 
capital  to-day  beholds  not  only  the  conflux  of  Asia  and  Europe, 
but  the  transition,  in  buUdings,  in  apparel,  in  manners,  to  mod- 
ern fashions.  Few  veiled  women  are  seen,  and  they  wear  a  white 
strip  of  gauze  which  conceals  nothing.  The  street  hawkers,  the 
sellers  of  sweets,  of  sponges,  and  of  cakes,  are  not  more  peculiar 
in  their  cries  than  those  of  London  and  Paris. 

When  we  had  climbed  the  hill,  we  came  into  the  long  main 
street  of  Pera,  the  street  of  the  chief  shops,  the  hotels  and  for- 
eign embassies,  a  quarter  of  the  city  which  has  been  burned  over 
as  often  as  San  Francisco,  and  is  now  budt  up  substantially  -vnth 
stone  and  brick,  and  contains  very  little  to  interest  the  seeker  of 
novelty.  After  we  had  secured  rooms,  and  breakfasted,  at  the 
hotel  Byzance,  we  descended  the  hill  again  to  the  water,  and 
crossed  the  long,  floating  bridge  to  Stamboul.  This  bridge  is  a 
very  good  symbol  of  the  Sultan's  Empire ;  its  wooden  upper  works 
are  decayed,  its  whole  structure  is  rickety,  the  floats  that  support 
it  are  unevenly  sunken,  so  that  the  bridge  is  a  succession  of  swells 
and  hollows ;  it  is  crowded  by  opposing  streams  of  the  most  in- 
congruous people,  foot  and  horse  jumbled  together  ;  it  is  encum- 
bered by  venders  of  eatables  and  auctioneers  of  cheap  wares,  and 
one  has  to  pay  toll  to  cross  it.  But  it  is  a  microcosm  of  the 
world.  In  an  hour  one  may  see  pass  there  every  nationality, 
adventurers  from  every  clime,  traders,  priests,  saUors,  soldiers,  for- 
tune-hunters of  Europe,  rude  peasants  of  the  provinces,  sleek 
merchants  of  the  Orient,  darwishes,  furtive-eyed  Jews  ;  here  is  a 
Circassian  beauty  seeking  a  lover  through  the  carriage  window  ; 
here  a  Turkish  grandee  on  a  prancing,  richly  caparisoned  horse ; 
here  moves  a  squad  of  black  soldiers,  and  now  the  bridge  shakes 
under  the  weight  of  a  train  of  flying  artUlery. 

The  water  is  alive  with  the  ticklish  caiques.     The  caique  is  a 


THE  CAIQUES.  281 

long  narrow  boat,  on  the  model  of  the  Indian  birch-bark  canoe, 
and  as  thin  and  light  on  the  water ;  the  passenger,  if  he  accom- 
plishes the  feat  of  getting  into  one  without  overturning  it,  sits 
upon  the  bottom,  careful  not  to  wink  and  upset  it ;  the  oars  have 
a  heavy  swell  near  the  handle,  to  counterbalance  the  weight  of  the 
long  blade,  and  the  craft  skims  the  water  with  swiftness  and  a 
most  agreeable  motion.  The  caiques  are  as  numerous  on  the 
water  as  the  yellow,  mangy  dogs  on  shore,  and  the  two  are  the 
most  characteristic  things  in  Constantinople. 

We  spent  a  good  part  of  the  day  in  wandering  about  the 
bazaars  of  Stamboul,  and  we  need  not  repeat  what  has  been  here- 
tofore said  of  these  pecidiar  shops.  During  our  stay  in  the  city 
we  very  thoroughly  explored  them,  and  visited  most  of  the  great 
khans,  where  are  to  be  found  the  silks  of  Broussa,  of  Beyrout 
and  Damascus,  the  rugs  of  Persia,  the  carpets  of  Asia  Minor,  the 
arms  and  the  cunning  work  in  gold,  silver,  and  jewels  gathered 
from  every  region  between  Ispahan  and  Darfour.  We  found  the 
bazaars  extensive,  weU  filled  and  dear,  at  least  the  asking  price 
was  enormous,  and  we  wanted  the  time  and  patience  which  are 
needed  for  the  slow  siege  of  reducing  the  merchants  to  decent 
terms.  The  bazaars  are  solidly  roofed  arcades,  at  once  more 
cleanly  and  less  picturesque  than  those  of  Cairo,  and  not  so 
Oriental  or  attractive.  Book-stalls,  which  are  infrequent  in 
Cairo,  abound  here ;  and  the  long  arcades  lined  with  cases  of 
glittering  gems,  enormous  pearls,  sparkling  diamonds,  emeralds 
fit  for  the  Pope's  finger,  and  every  gold  and  silver  temptation, 
exceed  anything  else  in  the  East  in  magnificence.  And  yet  they 
have  a  certain  modern  air,  and  you  do  not  expect  to  find  in  them 
those  quaint  and  fascinating  antique  patterns  of  goldsmiths'  work, 
the  inherited  skill  of  the  smiths  of  the  Pharaohs,  which  draw 
you  into  the  dingy  recesses  of  the  Copt  artificers  in  the  city  of  the 
Nile. 

From  the  Valideh  Khan  we  ascended  to  the  public  square, 
where  stands  the  Seraskier's  Fire-tower ;  a  paved,  open  place, 
suirounded  by  government  buildings  of  considerable  architectural 
pretensions,  and  dedicated,  I  should  say,  to  drumming,  to  the 
shifting  about  of  squads  of  soldiers,  and  the  cantering  hither  and 


282  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

thither  of  Turkish  beys.  Near  it  is  the  old  mosque  of  Sultan- 
Beyezid  II.,  which,  with  its  magnificent  arabesque  gates,  makes  a 
fine  external  impression.  The  outer  court  is  surrounded  by  a 
cloister  with  columns  of  verd-antique  and  porphyry,  enclosing 
a  fountain  and  three  stately,  venerable  trees.  The  trees  and  the 
arcades  are  alive  with  doves,  and,  as  we  entered,  more  than  a 
thousand  flew  towards  us  in  a  cloud,  with  a  great  rustling  and 
cooing.  They  are  protected  as  an  almost  sacred  appendage  of  the 
mosque,  and  are  said  to  be  bred  from  a  single  pair  which  the 
Sultan  bought  of  a  poor  woman  and  presented  to  the  house  he  had 
built,  three  centuries  and  a  half  ago.  This  mosque  has  also 
another  claim  to  the  gratitude  of  animals  ;  for  all  the  dogs  of 
Stamboul,  none  of  whom  have  any  home  but  the  street,  nor  any 
other  owner  than  the  Prophet,  resort  here  every  Friday,  as  regu- 
larly, if  not  as  piously,  as  the  Sultan  goes  to  pray,  and  receive 
their  weekly  bread. 

Near  this  mosque  are  lines  of  booths  and  open-air  shops,  which 
had  a  fascination  for  me  as  long  as  I  remained  in  the  city.  They 
extend  from  the  trees  in  the  place  of  the  mosque  down  through 
lanes  to  the  bazaars.  The  keepers  of  them  were  typical  Orientals, 
honest  Jews,  honest  Moslems,  withered  and  one-eyed  waiters  on 
Providence  and  a  good  bargain,  suave,  gracious,  patient,  gowned 
and  turbaned,  sitting  cross-legged  behind  their  trays  and  show- 
cases. These  are  the  dealers  in  stones,  both  precious  and  com- 
mon, in  old  and  new  ornaments,  and  the  thousand  cheap  adorn- 
ments in  glass  and  metal  which  the  humbler  classes  love.  Here 
are  heaps  of  blood-stones,  of  carnelians,  of  agates,  of  jasper,  of 
onyx,  dishes  of  turquoise,  strings  of  doubtful  pearls,  barbarous 
rings  and  brooches,  charms  and  amulets,  —  a  feast  of  color  for  the 
eye,  and  a  sight  to  kindle  the  imagination.  For  these  bawbles 
came  out  of  the  recesses  of  the  Orient,  were  gathered  by  wild 
tribes  in  remote  deserts,  and  transported  by  caravan  to  this  com- 
mon mart.  These  dealers  buy  of  the  Persian  merchants,  and  of 
adventiu-ous  Jew  travellers  who  range  all  the  deserts  from  Teheran 
to  Upper  Nubia  in  search  of  these  shining  stones.  Some  of  the 
turquoises  are  rudely  set  in  silver  rings,  but  most  of  them  are 
merely  glued  to  the  end  of  little  sticks  ;  these  generally  are  the 


A  MYSTERIOUS  TRADER.  283 

refuse  of  the  trade,  for  the  finer  stones  go  to  the  great  jewellers  in 
the  bazaar,  or  to  the  Western  markets.  A  large  and  perfect  tur- 
quoise of  good  color  is  very  rare,  and  commands  a  large  price  ; 
but  the  cunning  workmen  of  Persia  have  a  method  of  at  once 
concealing  the  defects  of  a  good-sized  turquoise  which  has  the 
true  color,  and  at  the  same  time  enhancing  its  value,  by  engraving 
upon  it  some  sentence  from  the  Koran,  or  some  word  which  is 
a  charm  against  the  evil  eye  ;  the  skill  of  the  engraver  is  shown 
in  fitting  his  letters  and  flourishes  to  the  flaws  in  the  surface  of 
the  stone.  To  further  hide  any  appearance  of  imperfection,  the 
engraved  lines  are  often  gilded.  With  a  venerable  Moslem,  AA^ho 
sat  day  after  day  under  a  sycamore-tree,  I  had  great  content,  and 
we  both  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  endless  bargaining  without  cheat- 
ing each  other,  for  except  in  some  trifles  we  never  came  to  an 
exact  agreement.  He  was  always  promising  me  the  most  won- 
derfid  things  for  the  next  day,  which  he  would  procure  from  a 
mysterious  Jew  friend  who  carried  on  a  clandestine  commerce 
with  some  Bedawee  in  Arabia.  When  I  was  seated,  he  would 
pull  from  his  bosom  a  knotted  silk  handkerchief,  and,  carefully 
untying  it,  produce  a  talisman,  presenting  it  between  his  thumb 
and  finger,  with  a  lift  of  the  eyebrows  and  a  cluck  of  the  tongue 
that  expressed  the  rapture  I  would  feel  at  the  sight  of  it.  To  be 
sure,  I  found  it  a  turquoise  set  in  rude  silver,  faded  to  a  sickly 
green,  and  not  worth  sixpence ;  but  I  handed  it  back  with  a  sigh 
that  such  a  jewel  was  beyond  my  means,  and  intimated  that  some- 
thing less  costly,  and  of  a  blue  color,  would  suit  me  as  well.  We 
were  neither  of  us  deceived,  while  we  maintained  the  courtesies  of 
commercial  intercourse.  Sometimes  he  would  produce  from  his 
bosom  an  emerald  of  real  value  or  an  opal  of  lovely  hues,  and 
occasionally  a  stone  in  some  peculiar  setting  Avhich  I  had  admired 
the  day  before  in  the  jewelry  bazaar ;  for  these  trinkets,  upon 
which  the  eye  of  the  traveller  has  been  seen  longingly  to  rest,  are 
shifted  about  among  this  mysterious  fraternity  to  meet  him  again. 
I  suppose  it  was  known  all  over  Stamboul  that  a  Frank  had  been 
looking  for  a  Persian  amulet.  As  long  as  I  sat  with  my  friend, 
I  never  saw  him  actually  sell  anything,  but  he  seemed  to  be  the  cen- 
tre of  mysterious  transactions  ;  furtive  traders  continually  came 


284  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

to  him  to  borrow  or  return  a  jewel,  or  to  exchange  a  handful  of 
trumpery.  Delusive  old  man !  I  had  no  confidence  in  you,  but 
I  would  go  far  to  pass  another  day  in  your  tranquil  society.  How 
much  more  agreeable  you  were  than  the  young  Nubian  at  an  op- 
posite stand,  who  repelled  purchasers  by  his  supreme  indifference, 
and  met  all  my  feeble  advances  with  the  toss  of  the  head  and  the 
cluck  in  the  left  cheek,  which  is  the  peremptory  "  no  "  in  Nubia. 
In  this  quarter  are  workers  in  shell  and  ivory,  the  makers  of 
spoons  of  tortoise-shell  with  handles  of  ivory  and  coral,  the 
fabricators  of  combs,  dealers  in  books,  and  a  long  street  of  little 
shops  devoted  to  the  engraving  of  seals.  To  wander  about  among 
these  craftsmen  is  one  of  the  chief  pleasures  of  the  traveller.  Vast 
as  Stamboul  is,  if  you  remove  from  it  the  mosques  and  nests  of 
bazaars,  it  would  not  be  worth  a  visit. 


XXV. 

THE  SERAGLIO  AND  ST.  SOPHIA,  HIPPODROME,  etc. 

HAVING  procured  a  firman,  we  devoted  a  day  to  the  old 
Seraglio  and  some  of  the  principal  mosques  of  Stamboul. 
After  an  occupation  of  fifteen  centuries  as  a  royal  residence,  the 
Seraglio  has  been  disused  for  nearly  forty  years,  and  fire,  neglect, 
and  decay  have  done  their  work  on  it,  so  that  it  is  but  a  melan- 
choly reminiscence  of  its  former  splendor.  It  occupies  the  ancient 
site  of  Byzantium,  upon  the  Point,  and  is  enclosed  by  a  crum- 
bling wall  three  miles  in  circuit.  No  royal  seat  in  the  world  has 
a  more  lovely  situation.  Upon  the  summit  of  the  promontory, 
half  concealed  in  cypresses,  is  the  cluster  of  buildings,  of  all  ages 
and  degrees  of  cheapness,  in  which  are  the  imperial  apartments 
and  offices ;  on  the  slopes  towards  the  sea  are  gardens,  terraces, 
kiosks,  and  fountains. 

We  climbed  up  the  hill  on  the  side  towards  Pera,  through  a 
shabby  field,  that  had  almost  the  appearance^of  a  city  dumping- 
ground,  and  through  a  neglected  grove  of  cypresses,  where  some 
deer  were  feeding,  and  came  round  to  the  main  entrance,  a  big, 
ugly  pavilion  with  eight  openings  over  the  arched  porte, — the 
gate  which  is  known  the  world  over  as  the  Sublime  Porte. 
Through  this  we  passed  into  a  large  court,  and  thence  to  the 
small  one  into  which  the  Sultan  only  is  permitted  to  ride  on 
horseback.  In  the  centre  of  this  is  a  fountain  where  formerly 
pashas  foreordained  to  lose  their  heads  lost  them.  On  the  right, 
a  low  range  of  buildings  covered  with  domes  but  no  chimneys,  are 
the  royal  kitchens  ;  there  are  nine  of  them,  —  one  for  the  Sultan, 
one  for  the  chief  sultanas,  and  so  on  down  to  the  one  devoted 


286  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

to  the  cooking  of  the  food  for  the  servants.  Hundreds  of  beasts, 
hecatombs,  were  slaughtered  daily  and  cooked  here  to  feed  the 
vast  household.  From  this  court  open  the  doors  into  the  halls 
and  divans  and  various  apartments ;  one  of  them,  leading  into 
the  interior,  is  called  the  Gate  of  Felicity ;  in  the  old  times  that 
could  only  be  called  a  gate  of  felicity  which  let  a  person  out  of  this 
spider's  parlor.  In  none  of  these  rooms  is  there  anything  spe- 
cially attractive ;  cheap  magnificence  in  decay  is  only  melancholy. 

We  were  better  pleased  in  the  gardens,  where  we  looked  upon 
Galata  and  Pera,  upon  the  Golden  Horn  and  the  long  bridges 
streaming  with  their  picturesque  processions,  upon  the  Bosphorus 
and  its  palaces,  and  thousands  of  sails,  steamers,  and  caiques,  and 
the  shining  heights  of  Scutari.  Overhanging  the  slope  is  the 
kiosk  or  summer  palace  of  Sultan  Moorad,  a  Saracenic  octagonal 
structure,  the  interior  walls  lined  with  Persian  tiles,  the  ceilings 
painted  in  red  arabesques  and  gilded  in  mosaics,  the  gates  of 
bronze  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl;  a  most  charming  building, 
said  to  be  in  imitation  of  a  kiosk  of  Bagdad.  In  it  we  saw  the 
Sultan's  private  library,  a  hundred  or  two  volumes  in  a  glass  case, 
that  had  no  appearance  of  ha^nng  been  read  either  by  the  Sultan 
or  his  wife. 

The  apartment  in  the  Seraglio  which  is  the  object  of  curiosity 
and  desire  is  the  treasure-room.  I  suppose  it  is  the  richest  in 
the  world  in  gems ;  it  is  certainly  a  most  wearisome  place,  and 
gave  me  a  contempt  for  earthly  treasure.  In  the  centre  stands  a 
Persian  throne,  —  a  chair  upon  a  board  platform,  and  both  in- 
crusted  with  rubies,  pearls,  emeralds,  diamonds ;  there  are  toilet- 
tables  covered  to  the  feet  with  diamonds,  pipe-stems  glistening 
with  huge  diamonds,  old  armor  thickly  set  with  precious  stones, 
saddle-cloths  and  stiiTups  stiff  with  diamonds  and  emeralds,  robes 
embroidered  with  pearls.  Nothing  is  so  cheap  as  wealth  lavished 
in  this  manner ;  at  first  we  were  dazzled  by  the  flashing  display, 
but  after  a  time  these  heaps  of  gems  seemed  as  common  in  our 
eyes  as  pebbles  in  the  street.  I  did  not  even  covet  an  emerald 
as  large  as  my  fist,  nor  a  sword-hilt  in  which  were  fifteen  dia- 
monds, each  as  large  as  the  end  of  my  thumb,  nor  a  carpet  sown 
with  pearls,  some  of  M'hich  were  of  the  size  of  pigeon's  eggs,  nor 


THE  TREASURE-ROOM.  287 

aigrettes  which  were  blazing  with  internal  fires,  nor  chairs  of 
state,  clocks  and  vases,  the  whole  surfaces  of  which  were  on  fire 
with  jewels.  I  have  seen  an  old  oaken  table,  carved  in  the  fif- 
teenth century,  which  gave  me  more  pleasure  than  one  of  lapis 
lazuli,  which  is  exhibited  as  the  most  costly  article  in  this  collec- 
tion ;  though  it  is  inlaid  with  precious  stones,  and  the  pillars 
that  support  the  mirror  are  set  with  diamonds,  and  the  legs  and 
claws  are  a  mass  of  diamonds,  inibies,  carbuncles,  emeralds,  to- 
pazes, etc.,  and  huge  diamond  pendants  ornament  it,  and  the 
deep  fringe  in  front  is  altogether  of  diamonds.  This  is  but  a 
barbarous,  ostentatious,  and  tasteless  use  of  the  beautiful,  and  I 
suppose  gives  one  an  idea  of  the  inartistic  magnificence  of  the 
Oriental  courts  in  centuries  gone  by. 

This  treasure-house  has,  I  presume,  nothing  that  belonged  to 
the  Byzantine  emperors  before  the  Moslem  conquest,  some  of 
whom  exceeded  in  their  magnificence  anj-^  of  the  Osmanli  sultans. 
Arcadius,  the  first  Eastern  emperor  after  the  division  of  the 
Roman  world,  rivalled,  in  the  appointments  of  his  palace  (which 
stood  upon  this  spot)  and  in  his  dress,  the  magnificence  of  the 
Persian  monarchs ;  and  perhaps  the  luxurious  califs  of  Bagdad  at 
a  later  day  did  not  equal  his  splendor.  His  robes  were  of  pur- 
ple, a  color  reserved  exclusively  for  his  sacred  person,  and  of  silk, 
embroidered  with  gold  dragons ;  his  diadem  was  of  gold  set  with 
gems  of  inestimable  worth ;  his  throne  was  massy  gold,  and  when 
he  went  abroad  he  rode  in  a  chariot  of  solid,  pure  gold,  drawn  by 
two  milk-white  mules  shining  in  harness  and  trappings  of  gold. 

No  spot  on  earth  has  been  the  scene  of  such  luxury,  cruelty, 
treachery,  murder,  infidelity  of  women,  and  rapacity  of  men,  as 
this  site  of  the  old  palace ;  and  the  long  record  of  the  Christian 
emperors  —  the  occasionally  intennipted  anarchy  and  usurpation 
of  a  thousand  years  —  loses  nothing  in  these  respects  in  com- 
parison with  the  Turkish  occupation,  although  the  world  shud- 
ders at  the  unrevealed  secrets  of  the  Seraglio.  At  least  we  may 
suppose  that  nobody's  conscience  was  violated  if  a  pretty  woman 
was  occasionally  dropped  into  the  Bosphoinis,  and  there  was  the 
authority  of  custom  for  the  strangling  of  all  the  children  of  the 
sisters  of  the  Sultan,  so  that  the  succession  might  not  be  em- 


288  IN   THE  LEVANT. 

barrassed.  In  this  court  is  the  cage,  a  room  accessible  only  by 
a  window,  where  the  royal  children  were  shut  up  to  keep  them 
from  conspiracy  against  the  throne;  and  there  Sultan  Abdul 
Aziz  spent  some  years  of  his  life. 

We  went  from  the  treasure-room  to  the  ancient  and  large 
Church  of  St.  Irene,  which  is  now  the  arsenal  of  the  Seraglio,  and 
become,  one  might  say,  a  church  militant.  The  nave  and  aisles 
are  stacked  with  arms,  the  walls,  the  holy  apse,  the  pillars,  are 
cased  in  guns,  swords,  pistols,  and  armor,  arranged  in  fanciful 
patterns,  and  with  an  ingenuity  I  have  seen  nowhere  else.  Here 
are  preserved  battle-flags  and  famous  trophies,  an  armlet  of  Tam- 
erlane, a  sword  of  Scanderbeg,  and  other  pieces  of  cold,  pliant 
steel  that  have  a  reputation  for  many  murders.  There  is  no  way 
so  sure  to  universal  celebrity  as  wholesale  murder.  Adjoining 
the  arsenal  is  a  museum  of  Greek  and  Roman  antiquities  of  the 
city,  all  in  Turkish  disorder  ;^  the  Cyprus  Collections,  sent  by 
General  di  Cesnola,  are  flung  upon  shelves  or  lie  in  heaps  unar- 
ranged,  and  most  of  the  cases  containing  them  had  not  been 
opened.  Near  this  is  an  interesting  museum  of  Turkish  costumes 
for  the  past  five  hundred  years,  —  rows  on  rows  of  ghastly  wax 
figures  clad  in  the  garments  of  the  dead.  All  of  them  are  ugly, 
many  of  them  are  comical  in  their  exaggeration.  The  costumes 
of  the  Janizaries  attract  most  attention,  perhaps  from  the  dis- 
like with  which  we  regard  those  cruel  mercenaries,  who  deposed 
and  dec<apitated  sultans  at  their  will,  and  partly  because  many 
of  the  dresses  seem  more  fit  for  harlequins  or  eunuchs  of  the 
harem  than  for  soldiers. 

When  the  Church  of  Santa  Sophia,  the  House  of  Divine  Wis- 
dom, was  finished,  and  Justinian  entered  it,  accompanied  only  by 
the  patriarch,  and  ran  from  the  porticos  to  the  pulpit  with  out- 
stretched arms,  crying,  "  Solomon,  I  have  surpassed  thee !  "  it 
was  doubtless  the  most  magnificently  decorated  temple  that  had 
ever  stood  upon  the  earth.  The  exterior  was  as  far  removed  in 
simple  grandeur  as  it  was  in  time  from  the  still  matchless  Doric 
temples  of  Athens  and  of  Paestum,  or  from  the  ornate  and  lordly 
piles  of  Ba'albek ;  but  the  interior  surpassed  m  splendor  almost 
the  conception  of  man.     The  pagan  temples  oF  antiquity  had 


THE   HOUSE   OF  DIVINE   WISDOM.  289 

been  despoiled,  the  quarries  of  the  known  world  had  been  ran- 
sacked for  marbles  of  various  hues  and  textures  to  enrich  it ;  and 
the  gold,  the  silver,  the  precious  stones,  employed  in  its  decora- 
tion, surpassed  in  measure  the  barbaric  ostentation  of  the  Temple 
at  Jerusalem.  Among  its  forest  of  columns,  one  recognized  the 
stan-ed  syenite  from  the  First  Cataract  of  the  Nile ;  the  white 
marble  of  Phrygia,  striped  with  rose ;  the  green  of  Laconia,  and 
the  blue  of  Libya ;  the  black  Celtic,  white-veined,  and  the  white 
Bosphorus,  black- veined ;  poHshed  shafts  which  had  supported  the 
roof  of  the  Temple  of  the  Delian  ApoUo,  others  which  had  beheld 
the  worship  of  Diana  at  Ephesus  and  of  Pallas  Athene  on  the 
Acropolis,  and,  yet  more  ancient,  those  that  had  served  in  the 
mysterious  edifices  of  Osiris  and  Isis ;  while,  more  conspicuous 
and  beautiful  than  all,  were  the  eight  columns  of  porphyry,  Avhich, 
transported  by  Aurelian  from  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Heliopolis 
to  Rome,  the  pious  Marina  had  received  as  her  dowry  and  dedi- 
cated to  the  most  magnificent  building  ever  reared  to  the  worship 
of  the  True  God,  and  fitly  dominating  the  shores  of  Europe  and 
Asia. 

One  reads  of  doors  of  cedar,  amber,  and  ivory ;  of  hundreds  of 
sacred  vessels  of  pure  gold,  of  exquisitely  wrought  golden  can- 
delabra, and  crosses  of  an  hundred  pounds'  weight  each ;  of  a  score 
of  books  of  the  Evangelists,  the  gold  covers  of  which  weighed 
twenty  pounds  ;  of  golden  lilies  and  golden  trumpets ;  of  forty-two 
thousand  chalice-cloths  embroidered  ^vith  pearls  and  jewels ;  and 
of  the  great  altar,  for  which  gold  was  too  cheap  a  material,  a  mass 
of  the  most  precious  and  costly  stones  imbedded  in  gold  and  sil- 
ver. We  may  recall  also  the  arches  and  the  clear  spaces  of  the 
walls  inlaid  with  marbles  and  covered  with  brilliant  mosaics.  It 
was  Justinian's  wish  to  pave  the  floor  with  plates  of  gold,  but, 
restrained  by  the  fear  of  the  avarice  of  his  successors,  he  laid  it  in 
variegated  marbles,  which  run  in  waving  lines,  imitating  the  flow- 
ing of  rivers  from  the  four  corners  to  the  vestibules.  But  the 
wonder  of  the  edifice  was  the  dome,  one  hundred  and  seven  feet 
in  span,  hanging  in  the  air  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above  the 
pavement.  The  aerial  lightness  of  its  position  is  increased  by  the 
two  half-domes  of  equal  span  and  the  nine  cupolas  which  sur- 
round it. 


290  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

More  than  one  volume  has  been  exclusively  devoted  to  a  de- 
scription of  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  and  less  than  a  volume 
would  not  suffice.  But  the  traveller  will  not  see  the  ancient 
glories.  If  he  expects  anything  approaching  the  exterior  rich- 
ness and  grandeur  of  the  cathedrals  of  Europe,  or  the  colossal 
proportions  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  or  the  inexhaustible  wealth 
of  the  interior  of  St.  Mark's  at  Venice,  he  will  be  disappointed. 
The  area  of  St.  Peter's  exceeds  that  of  the  grand  Piazza  of  St. 
Mark,  while  St.  Sophia  is  only  two  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet 
broad  by  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long ;  and  while  the  Church 
of  St.  Mark  has  been  accumulating  spoils  of  plunder  and  of  piety 
for  centuries,  the  Church  of  the  Divine  Wisdom  has  been  ran- 
sacked by  repeated  pillages  and  reduced  to  the  puritan  plainness 
of  the  Moslem  worship. 

Exceedingly  impressive,  however,  is  the  first  view  of  the  in- 
terior ;  we  stood  silent  with  wonder  and  delight  in  the  presence 
of  the  noble  columns,  the  bold  soaring  arches,  the  dome  in  the 
sky.  The  temple  is  flooded  with  light,  perhaps  it  is  too  bright ; 
the  old  mosaics  and  paintings  must  have  softened  it ;  and  we 
found  very  offensive  the  Arabic  inscriptions  on  the  four  great 
arches,  written  in  characters  ten  yards  long.  They  are  the  names 
of  companions  of  the  Prophet,  but  they  look  like  sign-boards. 
Another  disagreeable  impression  is  produced  by  the  position  of  the 
Mihrab,  or  prayer-niche ;  as  this  must  be  in  the  direction  of 
Mecca,  it  is  placed  at  one  side  of  the  apse,  and  everything  in  the 
mosque  is  forced  to  conform  to  it.  Thus  everything  is  askew ; 
the  pulpits  are  set  at  hateful  angles,  and  the  stripes  of  the  rugs 
on  the  floor  all  run  diagonally  across.  When  one  attempts  to 
walk  from  the  entrance,  pidled  one  way  by  the  architectural  plan, 
and  the  other  by  the  religious  diversion  of  it,  he  has  a  sensation 
of  being  intoxicated. 

Gone  from  this  temple  are  the  sacred  relics  which  edified  the 
believers  of  former  ages,  such  as  the  trumpets  that  blew  down 
Jericho  and  planks  from  the  Aj'k  of  Noah,  but  the  Moslems  have 
prodigies  to  replace  them.  The  most  curious  of  these  is  the 
sweating  marble  column,  which  emits  a  dampness  that  cures  dis- 
eases.    I  inserted  my  hand  in  a  ca\dty  which  has  been  dug  in  it. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  THE  MOSQUE.  291 

and  certainly  experienced  a  clammy  sensation.  It  is  said  to  sweat 
most  early  in  the  morning.  I  had  the  curiosity  to  ascend  the 
gallery  to  see  the  seat  of  the  courtesan  and  Empress  Theodora, 
daughter  of  the  keeper  of  the  bears  of  the  circus,  —  a  public  and 
venal  pantomimist,  who,  after  satisfying  the  immoral  curiosity  of 
her  contemporaries  in  many  cities,  illustrated  the  throne  of  the 
Caesars  by  her  talents,  her  intrigaes,  and  her  devotion.  The  fond- 
ness of  Justinian  has  preserved  her  initials  in  the  capitals  of  the 
columns,  the  imperial  eagle  marks  the  screen  that  hid  her  seat, 
and  the  curious  traveller  may  see  her  name  carved  on  the  balus- 
trade where  she  sat. 

To  the  ancient  building  the  Moslems  have  added  the  minarets 
at  the  four  corners  and  the  enormous  crescent  on  the  dome,  the 
gilding  of  which  cost  fifty  thousand  ducats,  and  the  shining  of 
which,  a  golden  moon  in  the  day,  is  visible  at  tlie  distance  of  a 
hundred  miles.  The  crescent,  adopted  by  the  Osmanli  upon  the 
conquest  of  Jerusalem,  was  the  emblem  of  Byzantium  before  the 
Christian  era.  There  is  no  spot  in  Constantinople  more  flooded 
with  historical  associations,  or  more  interesting  to  the  student  of 
the  history  of  the  Eastern  Empire,  than  the  site  of  St.  Sophia. 
Here  arose  the  church  of  the  same  name  erected  by  Constantine ; 
it  was  twice  burned,  once  by  the  party  of  St.  John  Chrysostom, 
and  once  in  a  tumult  of  the  factions  of  the  Hippodrome.  I 
should  like  to  have  seen  some  of  the  pageants  that  took  place  here. 
After  reposing  in  their  graves  for  three  centuries,  the  bodies  of 
St.  Andrew,  St.  Luke,  and  St.  Timothy  were  transported  hither. 
Fifty  years  after  it  was  honored  by  a  still  more  illustrious  pres- 
ence ;  the  ashes  of  the  prophet  Samuel,  deposited  in  a  golden 
vase  covered  with  a  silken  veil,  left  their  resting-place  in  Pales- 
tine for  the  banks  of  the  Bosphorus.  The  highways  from  the 
hills  of  Judaea  to  the  gates  of  Constantinople  were  filled  by  an 
uninterrupted  procession,  who  testified  their  enthusiasm  and  joy, 
and  the  Emperor  Arcadius  himself,  attended  by  the  most  illus- 
trious of  the  clergy  and  the  Senate,  advanced  to  receive  his  illus- 
trious guest,  and  conducted  the  holy  remains  to  this  magnificent 
but  insecure  place  of  repose.  It  was  here  that  Gregory  Nazian- 
zen  was  by  force  installed  upon  the  Episcopal  throne  by  Theodo- 


292  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

sius.  The  city  was  fanatically  Arian.  Theodosius  proclaimed 
the  Nicene  creed,  and  ordered  the  primate  to  deliver  the  cathedral 
and  all  the  churches  to  the  orthodox,  who  were  few  in  number, 
but  strong  in  the  presence  of  Gregory.  This  extraordinary  man 
had  set  up  an  orthodox  pulpit  in  a  private  house ;  he  had  been 
mobbed  by  a  motley  crowd  M'hich  issued  from  the  Cathedi-al  of 
St.  Sophia,  "  common  beggars  who  had  forfeited  their  claim  to 
pity,  monks  who  had  the  appearance  of  goats  or  satyrs,  and 
women  more  horrible  than  so  many  Jezebels " ;  he  had  his 
triumph  when  Theodosius  led  him  by  the  hand  through  the 
streets  —  filled  with  a  'multitude  crowding  pavement,  roofs,  and 
windows,  and  venting  their  rage,  grief,  astonishment,  and  de- 
spair—  into  the  church,  which  was  held  by  soldiers,  though  the 
prelate  confessed  that  the  city  had  the  appearance  of  a  to^\'n 
stormed  by  barbarians.  It  was  here  that  Eutropius,  the  eunuch, 
when  his  career  of  rapacity  exceeded  even  the  toleration  of  Arca- 
dius,  souglit  sanctuary,  and  was  protected  by  John  Chrysostom, 
archbishop,  who  owed  his  ecclesiastical  dignity  to  the  late  sexless 
favorite.  And  it  was  up  this  very  nave  that  Mohammed  II.,  the 
conqueror,  spurred  his  horse  through  a  crowd  of  fugitives,  dis- 
mounted at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  cried,  "  There  is  no  God  but 
God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  prophet !  "  and  let  loose  his  soldiery 
upon  the  priests,  virgins,  and  promiscuous  multitude  who  had 
sought  shelter  here. 

I  should  only  weary  you  with  unintelligible  details  in  attempt- 
ing a  description  of  other  mosques  which  we  visited.  They  are 
all  somewhat  alike,  though  varying  in  degrees  of  splendor.  There 
is  that  of  Sultan  Ahmed,  on  the  site  of  the  Hippodrome,  dis- 
tinguished as  the  only  one  in  the  empire  that  has  six  minarets, — 
the  state  mosque  of  the  Sultan,  whence  the  Mecca  pilgrimages 
proceed  and  where  the  great  festivals  are  held.  From  a  distance 
it  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  poetically  beautiful  objects 
in  the  city.  And  there  is  the  Mosque  of  Svdeiman  the  Magnifi- 
cent, a  copy  of  St.  Sophia  and  excelling  it  in  harmonious  gran- 
deur, —  indeed,  it  is  called  the  finest  mosque  in  the  empire.  Its 
forecourt  measures  a  thousand  paces,  and  the  enclosure  contains, 
besides  the  mosque  and  the  tomb  of  the  founder,  many  founda- 


TOMBS   OF  SULTANS.  293 

tions  of  charity  and  of  learning,  —  three  schools  for  the  young, 
besides  one  for  the  reading  of  the  Koran  and  one  of  medicine, 
four  academies  for  the  four  Moslem  sects,  a  hospital,  a  kitchen 
for  the  poor,  a  library,  a  fountain,  a  resting-place  for  travellers, 
and  a  house  of  refuge  for  strangers.  From  it  one  enjoys  a  mag- 
nificent view  of  the  Golden  Horn,  the  Bosphorus,  and  the  piled- 
up  city  opposite.  When  we  entered  the  mosque  hundreds  of 
worshippers  were  at  prayer,  bowing  their  turbans  towards  Mecca 
in  silent  unison.  The  throng  soon  broke  up  into  groups  of  from 
ten  to  forty,  which  seated  themselves  in  circles  on  the  floor  for 
the  reading  of  the  Koran.  The  shoes  were  heaped  in  the  centre 
of  each  circle,  the  chief  reader  squatted  at  a  low  desk  on  one  side, 
and  all  read  together  in  a  loud  voice,  creating  an  extraordinary 
vocal  tumult.     It  was  like  a  Sunday  school  in  fancy  dress. 

Stamboid  is  a  very  interesting  place  to  those  who  have  a  taste 
for  gorgeous  sepidchres,  and  I  do  not  know  any  such  pleasant 
residences  of  the  dead  as  the  turbehs,  or  tombs  of  the  imperial 
family.  Usually  attached  to  the  mosques,  but  sometimes  stand- 
ing apart,  they  are  elegant  edifices,  such  as  might  be  suitable  for 
the  living ;  in  their  aiiy,  light,  and  stately  chambers  the  occu- 
pants are  deprived  of  no  splendor  to  which  they  were  accustomed 
in  life.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  these  turbehs,  that  of  Sultan 
Mahmood  II.,  I  mistook  for  a  fountain ;  it  is  a  domed,  circular 
budding  of  white  marble,  with  Corinthian  pilasters,  and  lighted 
by  seven  large  windows  with  gilded  grating.  Within,  in  a  cheer- 
ful, carpeted  apartment,  are  the  biers  of  the  sultan,  his  valideh 
sultana,  and  five  daughters,  covered  with  cloths  of  velvet,  richly 
embroidered,  upon  which  are  thi'own  the  most  superb  India 
shawls ;  the  principal  sarcophagi  are  surrounded  by  railings  of 
mother-of-pearl ;  massive  silver  candlesticks  and  Koran-stands, 
upon  which  are  beautiful  manuscripts  of  the  Koran,  are  disposed 
about  the  room,  and  at  the  head  of  the  Sultan's  bier  is  a  fez  with 
a  plume  and  aigrette  of  diamonds.  In  the  court  of  Santa  Sophia 
you  may  see  the  beautiful  mausoleum  of  Selim  II.,  who  reposes  be- 
side the  Lady  of  Light ;  and  not  far  from  it  the  turbeh  containing 
the  remains  of  Mohammed  III.,  surrounded  by  the  biers  of  seven- 
teen brothers  whom  he  murdered.     It  is  pleasant  to  see  brothers 


294  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

united  and  in  peace  at  last.  I  found  something  pathetic  in  other 
like  apartments  where  families  were  gathered  together,  sultans  and 
sultanas  in  the  midst  of  little  span-long  biers  of  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, incipient  sultans  and  sultanas,  who  were  never  permitted  by 
state  policy,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  to  hatch.  Stran- 
gled in  their  golden  cradles,  perhaps,  these  innocents !  Worth- 
less little  bodies,  mocked  by  the  splendor  of  their  interments. 
One  could  not  but  feel  a  little  respect  for  what  might  have  been 
a  "  Sublime  Porte  "  or  a  Light  of  the  Seraglio. 

The  Imperial  Palace,  the  Church  of  Santa  Sophia,  the  Hippo- 
drome,—  these  arc  the  triangle  of  Byzantine  history,  the  trinity 
of  tyranny,  religion,  and  faction.  The  Circus  of  Constantinople, 
like  that  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  was  the  arena  for  the  exhibi- 
tion of  games,  races,  spectacles,  and  triumphs  ;  like  that,  it  was 
the  arena  of  a  licentious  democracy,  but  the  most  disorderly  mob 
of  Rome  never  attained  the  power  or  equalled  the  vices  of  the 
murderous  and  incendiary  factions  of  Byzantium.  The  harmless 
colors  that  at  first  only  distinguished  the  ignoble  drivers  in  the 
chariot  races  became  the  badges  of  parties,  which  claimed  the 
protection  and  enjoyed  tlie  favor  of  emperors  and  prelates  ;  and 
the  blue  and  the  green  factions  not  only  more  than  once  involved 
the  city  in  conflagration  and  blood,  but  carried  discord  and  frenzy 
into  all  the  provinces.  Although  they  respected  no  human  or 
divine  law,  they  affected  religious  zeal  for  one  or  another  Christian 
sect  or  dogma;  the  "blues  "  long  espoused  the  orthodox  cause, 
and  enjoyed  the  partiality  of  Justinian.  The  dissolute  youth  of 
Constantinople,  wearing  the  livery  of  the  factions,  possessed  the 
city  at  night,  and  abandoned  themselves  to  any  deed  of  violence 
that  fancy  or  revenge  suggested  ;  neither  the  sanctity  of  the  church, 
nor  the  peace  of  the  private  house,  nor  the  innocence  of  youth, 
nor  the  chastity  of  matron  or  maid,  was  safe  from  these  assassins 
and  ravishers.  It  was  in  one  of  their  seditious  outbreaks  that 
the  palace  and  Santa  Sophia  wore  delivered  to  the  flames. 

The  oblong  ground  of  the  Hippodrome  is  still  an  open  place, 
although  a  portion  of  the  ground  is  covered  by  the  ^Mosque  of 
Ahmed.  But  the  traveller  will  find  there  few  relics  of  this  his- 
torical arena ;  nothing  of  the  marble  seats  and  galleries  that  sur- 


THE   HIPPODROME.  295 

rounded  it.  The  curious  may  look  at  the  Egyptian  obelisk  of 
syenite,  at  the  crumbling  pyramid  which  was  the  turning  goal  of 
the  chariots  ;  and  he  may  find  more  food  for  reflection  in  the 
bronze  spiral  column,  formed  by  the  twinings  of  three  serpents 
whose  heads  have  been  knocked  off.  It  deserves  to  be  housed 
and  cared  for.  There  is  no  doubt  of  its  venerable  antiquity ;  it 
was  seen  by  Thucydides  and  Herodotus  in  the  Temple  of  Delphi, 
where  its  three  branching  heads  formed  a  tripod  upon  which 
rested  the  dish  of  gold  which  the  Greeks  captured  among  the 
spoils  of  the  battle  of  Platsea.  The  column  is  not  more  than 
fifteen  feet  high  ;  it  has  stood  here  since  the  time  of  Constantine. 

This  is  the  most  famous  square  of  Constantinople,  yet  in  its 
present  unromantic  aspect  it  is  difficult  to  reanimate  its  interest. 
It  is  said  that  its  statues  of  marble  and  bronze  once  excelled  the 
living  population  of  the  city.  In  its  arena  emperors,  whose  vices 
have  alone  saved  their  names  to  a  conspicuous  contempt,  sought 
the  popidar  applause  by  driving  in  the  chariot  races,  or  stripped 
themselves  for  the  sports  \vith  wild  beasts,  proud  to  remind  the 
spectators  of  the  exploits  of  Caligula  and  Heliogabalus.  Here, 
in  the  reign  of  Anastasius,  the  "  green  "  faction,  entering  the 
place  with  concealed  daggers,  interrupted  a  solemn  festival  and 
assassinated  three  thousand  of  the  "  blues."  This  place  was  in 
the  first  quarter  of  this  century  the  exercise  and  parade  ground  of 
the  Janizaries,  until  they  were  destroyed.  Let  us  do  justice  to 
the  Turks.  In  two  memorable  instances  they  exhibited  a  nerve 
which  the  Eoman  emperors  lacked,  who  never  had  either  the  firm- 
ness or  the  courage  to  extirpate  the  Praetorian  Guards.  The  Jan- 
izaries set  up,  deposed,  murdered  sultans,  as  the  Guards  did 
Emperors  ;  and  the  Mamelukes  of  Egypt  imitated  their  predeces- 
sors at  Rome.  Mahmood  II.  in  Constantinople,  and  Mohammed 
Ali  in  Cairo,  had  the  courage  to  extinguish  these  enemies  of 
Turkish  sovereignty. 

In  this  neighborhood  are  several  ancient  monuments ;  the 
Burnt  Column,  a  blackened  shaft  of  porphyry  ;  the  column  called 
Historical;  and  that  of  Theodosius,  —  I  shall  not  fatigue  you  with 
further  mention  of  them.  Not  far  from  the  Hippodrome  we  de- 
scended into  the  reservoir  called  A  Thousand  and  One  Columns ; 


296  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

I  suppose  this  number  is  made  up  by  counting  one  as  three,  for 
each  column  consists  of  three  superimposed  shafts.  It  is  only 
partially  excavated.  We  found  a  number  of  Jews  occupying  these 
subterranean  colonnades,  engaged  in  twisting  silk,  the  even  tem- 
perature of  the  cellar  being  favorable  to  this  work. 

As  if  we  had  come  out  of  a  day  in  another  age,  we  walked  down 
through  the  streets  of  the  artificers  of  brass  and  ivory  and  leather, 
to  the  floating  bridge,  and  crossed  in  a  golden  sunset,  in  which 
the  minarets  and  domes  of  the  mosque  of  Mohammed  II.  appeared 
like  some  aerial  creation  in  the  yeUow  sky. 


XXVI. 


SAUNTEEINGS  ABOUT  CONSTANTINOPLE. 

DUEING  the  day  steamers  leave  tlie  Galata  bridge  every  half- 
hour  for  the  villages  and  palaces  along  the  Bosphorus ;  there 
is  a  large  fleet  of  them,  probably  thirty,  but  they  are  always 
crowded,  like  the  ferr}' -boats  that  ply  the  waters  of  New  York 
Bay. 

We  took  our  first  sail  on  the  Bosphorus  one  afternoon  toward 
sunset,  ascending  as  far  as  Bebek,  where  we  had  been  invited  to 
spend  the  night  by  Dr.  Washbume,  the  President  of  Koberts 
College.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  animation  of  the  harbor, 
crowded  with  shipping,  amid  w^hich  the  steamers  and  caiques 
were  darting  about  like  shuttles,  the  first  impression  made  by  the 
palaces  and  ravishingly  lovely  shores  of  this  winding  artery  be- 
tween two  seas.  Seven  promontories  from  Asia  and  seven  prom- 
ontories from  Europe  project  into  the  stream,  creating  as  many 
corresponding  bays  ;  but  the  villages  are  more  numerous  than 
bays  and  promontories  together,  for  there  are  over  forty  in  the 
fourteen  miles  from  the  Sea  of  Marmora  to  the  Black  Sea ;  on 
the  shores  is  an  almost  unbroken  line  of  buildings,  many  of  them 
palaces  of  marble  ;  the  heights  are  crowned  with  cottages  and 
luxurious  villas,  and  abodes  of  taste  and  wealth  peep  out  along 
the  slopes.  If  you  say  that  we  seem  to  be  sailing  in  the  street 
of  a  city,  I  can  only  answer  that  it  is  not  so ;  nature  is  stiU 
supreme  here,  and  the  visible  doweress  of  the  scene.  These 
lovely  hills  rising  on  both  sides,  these  gracious  curves  are  hers, 
as  are  these  groves  and  gardens  of  fruits  and  flowers,  these  vines 
13* 


298  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

and  the  abundant  green  that  sometimes  conceals  and  always  soft- 
ens the  work  of  man. 

Before  we  readied  the  Sultan's  palace  at  Beshiktash,  our 
steamer  made  a  detour  to  the  east  bank,  outside  of  the  grim  iron- 
clads that  lie  before  the  imperial  residence.  No  steamers  are 
permitted  to  approach  nearer,  lest  the  smoke  should  soil  the 
sparkling  white  marble  of  the  palace,  or  their  clamor  and  danger- 
ous freight  of  men  should  disturb  the  serenity  of  the  harem. 
The  palace,  wliich  is  a  beautiful  building,  stretches  for  some  dis- 
tance along  the  water,  with  its  gardens  and  conservatories,  and 
seems  to  be  a  very  comfortable  home  for  a  man  who  has  no  more 
ready  money  than  the  Sultan. 

We  landed  at  Bebek  and  climbed  the  steep  hill,  on  whose  slope 
nightingales  were  singing  in  the  forest,  just  in  time  to  see  the 
sunset.  Eoberts  College  occupies  the  most  commanding  situa- 
tion on  the  strait,  and  I  do  not  know  any  view  that  surpasses  in 
varied  beauty  that  to  be  enjoyed  from  it.  I  shall  make  myself 
comprehended  by  many  when  I  say  that  it  strongly  reminded  me 
of  the  Hudson  at  West  Point ;  if  nature  could  be  suspected  of 
copying  herself,  I  should  say  that  she  had  the  one  in  mind  when 
she  made  the  other.  At  that  point  the  Hudson  resembles  the 
Bosphorus,  but  it  wants  the  palaces,  the  Vale  of  the  Heavenly 
Water  into  which  we  looked  from  this  height,  and  some  charming 
media?val  towers,  walls,  and  castles. 

The  towers  and  walls  belong  to  the  fortress  built  in  1451  by 
Mohammed  II.,  and  are  now  fallen  into  that  decrepitude  in 
whicli  I  like  best  to  see  all  fortresses.  But  this  was  interest- 
ing before  it  was  a  ruin.  It  stands  just  above  the  college,  at 
Roomeli  Hissar,  where  the  Bosphorus  is  narrowest,  —  not  more 
than  half  a  mile  broad,  —  and  with  the  opposite  forti-ess  of 
Anatolia  could  perfectly  close  the  stream.  Two  years  before  the 
capture  of  the  city,  Mohammed  built  this  fort,  and  gave  it  the 
most  peculiar  form  of  any  fortress  existing.  His  idea  was  that 
the  towers  and  the  circuit  of  the  walls  should  spell  tlie  name  of 
the  Prophet,  and  consequently  his  own.  As  we  looked  down  upon 
it,  my  friend  read  for  me  this  singular  piece  of  caligraphy,  but  I 
could  understand  it  no  further  than  the  tower  which  stands  for 


THE  ROBERTS   COLLEGE.  299 

the  Arabic  ring  in  the  first  letter.  It  was  at  this  place  that 
Darius  threw  a  bridge  across  the  Bosphorus,  and  there  is  a  tradi- 
tion of  a  stone  seat  which  he  occupied  here  while  his  Asiatics 
passed  into  Europe. 

So  far  as  I  know,  there  is  no  other  stream  in  the  world  upon 
which  the  wealth  of  palaces  and  the  beauty  of  gardens  may  be 
so  advantageously  displayed.  So  far  as  I  know,  there  is  no  other 
place  where  nature  and  art  have  so  combined  to  produce  an  en- 
chanting prospect.  As  the  situation  and  appearance  of  Constan- 
tinople are  unequalled,  so  the  Bosphorus  is  imique. 

Whatever  may  be  the  political  changes  of  the  Turkish  Empire, 
I  do  not  believe  that  this  pleasing  picture  will  be  destroyed ; 
rather  let  us  expect  to  see  it  more  lovely  in  the  rapidly  develop- 
ing taste  of  a  new  era  of  letters  and  refinement.  It  was  a  wise 
forethought  that  planted  the  American  College  just  here.  It  is 
just  where  it  should  be  to  mould  the  new;  order  of  things.  I  saw 
among  its  two  hundred  pupils  scholars  of  all  creeds  and  races, 
who  will  caiTy  from  here  living  ideas  to  every  pai't  of  the  empire, 
and  I  learned  to  respect  that  thirst  for  knowledge  and  ability  to 
acquire  it  which  exist  in  the  neighboring  European  provinces. 
If  impatient  men  could  wait  the  process  of  education,  the  growth 
of  schools,  and  the  development  of  capacity  now  already  most 
promising,  the  Eastern  question  might  be  solved  by  the  appear- 
ance on  the  scene  in  less  than  a  score  of  years,  of  a  stalwart  and 
intelligent  people,  who  would  not  only  be  able  to  grasp  Constan- 
tinople, but  to  administer  upon  the  decaying  Turkish  Empire  as 
the  Osmanli  administered  upon  the  Greek. 

On  Friday  the  great  business  of  everybody  is  to  see  the  Sul- 
tan go  to  pray  ;  and  the  eagerness  with  which  foreigners  crowd  to 
the  spectacle  must  convince  the  Tm'ks  that  we  enjoy  few  religious 
privileges  at  home.  It  is  not  known  beforehand,  even  to  the  in- 
mates of  the  palace,  to  what  mosque  the  Sultan  will  go,  nor 
whether  he  will  make  a  street  progress  on  horseback,  or  embark 
upon  the  water,  for  the  chosen  place  of  prayer.  Before  twelve 
o'clock  we  took  carriage  and  drove  down  the  hill,  past  the 
parade-ground  and  the  artiUeiy  barracks  to  the  rear  of  the  palace 
of  Beshiktash ;  crowds  on  foot  and  in  carriages  were  streaming 


300  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

in  that  direction  ;  regiments  of  troops  were  drifting  down  the 
slopes  and  emptying  into  the  avenue  that  leads  betAveen  the  palace 
and  the  plantation  of  gardens ;  colors  were  unfurled,  drums 
beaten,  trumpets  called  from  ban'ack  and  guard-house ;  gorgeous 
officers  on  caparisoned  horses,  with  equally  gaudy  attendants, 
cantered  to  the  rendezvous ;  and  all  the  air  was  full  of  the  expec- 
tation of  a  great  event.  At  the  great  square  of  the  palace  we 
waited  amid  an  intense  throng ;  four  or  five  lines  of  carriages 
stretched  for  a  mile  along ;  troops  were  in  marching  rank  along 
the  avenue  and  disposed  in  hollow  square  on  the  place ;  the  pal- 
ace gates  were  closed,  and  everybody  looked  anxiously  toward  the 
high  and  gOded  portal  from  which  it  was  said  the  announcement 
of  the  Sultan's  intention  would  be  made.  From  time  to  time  our 
curiosity  was  fed  by  the  arrival  of  a  splendid  pasha,  who  dis- 
mounted and  walked  about ;  and  at  intervals  a  gilded  personage 
emerged  from  the  palace  court  and  raised  our  expectation  on  tip- 
toe. We  send  our  dragoman  to  interrogate  the  most  awful  dig- 
nities, especially  some  superb  beings  in  yellow  silk  and  gold,  but 
they  know  nothing  of  the  Sultan's  mind.  At  the  last  moment 
he  might,  on  horseback,  issue  from  the  gate  with  a  brilliant 
tlirong,  or  he  might  depart  in  his  caique  by  the  water  front.  In 
either  case  there  would  be  a  rush  and  a  scramble  to  see  and  to 
accompany  him.  More  regiments  were  arriving,  bands  were 
playing,  superb  officers  galloping  up  and  down ;  carriages,  gilded 
with  the  arms  of  foreign  embassies,  or  filled  with  Turkish  ladies, 
pressed  forward  to  the  great  gate,  which  still  gave  no  sign.  I 
have  never  seen  such  a  religious  excitement.  For  myself,  I  found 
some  compensation  in  the  usual  Oriental  crowd  and  unconscious 
picturesqueiiess  ;  swart  Africans  in  garments  of  yellow,  sellers  of 
sherbet  clinking  their  glasses,  venders  of  faint  sweetmeats  walk- 
ing about  with  trays  and  tripods,  and  the  shifting  kaleidoscope  of 
races,  colors,  and  graceful  attitudes. 

Suddenly,  I  do  not  know  how,  or  from  what  quarter,  the  feeling 
—  for  I  could  not  call  it  information  —  was  diffused  that  the  suc- 
cessor of  the  Prophet  would  pray  at  the  mosque  in  Ortakeui,  and 
that  he  would  go  by  caique ;  and  we  all  scampered  up  the  road,  a 
mile  or  two,  racing  carriages,  troops  and  foot  men,  in  eager  outset, 


THE  SULTAN   GOING  TO   PRAY.  301 

in  order  to  arrive  before  the  pious  man.  The  mosque  stands  upon 
the  Bosphorus,  where  its  broad  marble  steps  and  pillared  front 
and  dome  occupy  as  conspicuous  a  position  as  the  Dogana  at 
Venice.  We  secured  a  standing-place  on  the  dock  close  to  the 
landing,  but  outside  the  iron  railing,  and  waited.  A  cordon  of 
troops  in  blue  regimentals  with  red  facings  was  drawn  around 
the  streets  in  the  rear  of  the  mosque,  and  two  companies  of  sol- 
diers in  white  had  stacked  their  guns  on  the  marble  landing,  and 
were  lounging  about  in  front  of  the  building. 

The  scene  on  the  Bosphorus  was  as  gay  as  a  flower-garden. 
The  water  was  covered  with  graceful  caiques  and  painted  barges 
and  every  sort  of  craft,  mean  and  splendid,  that  could  be  pro- 
pelled by  oars  or  sails.  A  dozen  men-of-war  were  decked  with 
flags  from  keel  to  maintop ;  on  eveiy  yard,  and  from  bowsprit  to 
stern,  stood  a  line  of  sadors  sharply  defined  against  the  blue  sky. 
At  one  o'clock  a  cannon  announced  that  the  superior  devotee  had 
entered  his  caique,  and  then  from  every  vessel  of  war  in  the 
harbor  salute  answered  salute  in  thunder  that  awoke  the  echoes 
of  two  continents  ;  until  on  all  the  broad  water  lay  a  thick  battle- 
smoke,  through  which  we  could  distinguish  only  the  tops  of  the 
masts,  and  the  dim  hulks  spouting  fire. 

In  the  midst  of  this  earthquake  of  piety,  there  was  a  cry,  "  He 
comes,  he  comes  !  "  The  soldiers  grasped  their  arms  and  drew  a 
line  each  side  of  the  landing,  and  the  officials  of  the  mosque 
arranged  themselves  on  the  steps.  Upon  the  water,  advancing 
with  the  speed  of  race-horses,  we  saw  two  splendid  gilded  caiques, 
the  one  containing  the  Sultan,  the  other  his  attendants.  At  the 
moment,  a  light  carriage  with  two  bay  horses,  unattended,  dashed 
up  to  the  side  door,  and  there  descended  from  it  and  entered  the 
mosque  the  imperial  heir,  the  son  of  the  late  Sultan  and  the 
nephew  of  the  present,  a  slender,  pale  youth  of  apparently  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  years.  We  turn  (not  knowing  how  soon  he  is  to 
become  Sultan  Murad  V.)  our  eyes  to  him  only  for  a  moment, 
for  the  Sultan's  caique  comes  with  imperious  haste,  with  the  rush 
as  it  were  of  victory,  —  an  hundred  feet  long,  narrow,  rising  at 
the  stem  like  the  Venetian  Bucentaur,  carved  and  gilded  like  the 
golden  chariot  in  which  Alexander  entered  Babylon,  —  propelled 


302  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

by  fifty-two  long  sweeps,  rising  and  falling  in  unison  with  the 
bending  backs  of  twenty-six  black  rowers,  clad  in  white  and  with 
naked  feet.  The  Sultan  is  throned  in  the  high  stern,  hung  with 
silk,  on  silken  cushions,  under  a  splendid  canopy  on  the  top  of 
which  glisten  his  arms  and  a  blazing  sun.  The  Sultan,  who  is 
clad  in  the  uniform  of  a  general,  steps  quickly  out,  walks  up  the 
steps  over  a  carpet  spread  for  his  royal  feet,  —  the  soldiers  salut- 
ing, everybody  with  arms  crossed  bending  the  body,  —  and  dis- 
appears in  the  mosque.  The  second  caique  lands  immediately, 
and  the  imperial  ministers  step  from  it  and  follow  their  master. 

At  the  side  entrance  an  immense  closed  baggage-wagon,  drawn 
by  four  horses  and  said  to  contain  the  sacred  wardrobe,  was  then 
unlocked  and  unloaded,  and  out  of  it  came  trunks,  boxes,  carpet- 
bags, as  if  the  imperial  visitor  had  come  to  stay  a  week.  After  a 
half-hour  of  prayer  he  came  out,  bis  uniform  concealed  under  his 
overcoat,  got  quickly  into  a  plain  carriage,  drawn  by  four  mag- 
nificent gray  horses,  and  drove  rapidly  away,  attended  by  a  dozen 
outriders.  His  heh-  followed  in  the  carriage  in  which  he  came. 
We  had  a  good  view  of  the  chief  of  Islam.  He  was  a  tall,  stout 
man,  with  a  full  gi'ay  beard,  and  on  the  whole  a  good  face  and 
figure.  All  this  parade  is  weekly  enacted  over  one  man  going  to 
pray.  It  is,  after  all,  more  simple  than  the  pageantry  that  often 
attends  the  public  devotion  of  the  vicegerent  of  Christ  in  St. 
Peter's. 

Upon  our  return  we  stopped  at  the  tekkeb,  in  Pera,  to  see  the 
performance  of  the  Turning  Darwishes.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
have  anything  to  add  to  the  many  animated  descriptions  which 
have  been  written  of  it.  It  is  not  far  from  the  Little  Field  of  the 
Dead,  and  all  about  the  building  are  tombs  of  the  faithful,  in 
which  were  crowds  of  people  enjoying  that  peculiar  Oriental 
pleasure,  graveyard  festivity.  The  mosque  is  pleasant,  and  has 
a  polished  dancing-floor,  surrounded  by  a  gallery  supported  on 
columns.  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  place  for  a  "hop." 
Everybody  has  seen  a  picture  of  the  darwishes,  with  closed  eyes, 
outstretched  arms,  and  long  gowns  inflated  at  the  bottom  like 
an  old-fashioned  churn,  turning  smoothly  round  upon  their  toes, 
a  dozen  or  twenty  of  them  revolving  without  collision.     The  mo- 


THE   SWEET   WATERS   OF  EUROPE.  303 

tion  is  certainly  poetic  and  pleasing,  and  the  plaintive  fluting  of 
the  Arab  nay  adds  I  know  not  what  of  pathos  to  the  exercise.  I 
think  this  dance  might  advantageously  be  substituted  in  Western 
ialons  for  the  German,  for  it  is  graceful  and  perfectly  moral. 

Constantinople  is  a  city  of  the  dead  as  much  as  of  the  liv- 
ing, and  one  encounters  everywhere  tombs  and  cemeteries  senti- 
nelled by  the  mournful  dark-green  cypress.  On  our  way  to  take 
boat  for  the  Sweet  Waters  of  Europe  we  descended  through  the 
neglected  Little  Field  of  the  Dead.  It  is  on  a  steep  acclivity,  and 
the  stones  stand  and  lean  thickly  there,  each  surmounted  by  a 
turban  in  fashion  at  the  period  of  the  occupant's  death,  and  with 
inscription  neatly  carved.  That  "  every  man  has  his  date  "  strikes 
Abd-el-Atti  as  a  remarkable  fact.  The  gi-ound  is  netted  by  hap- 
hazard paths,  and  the  careless  living  tread  the  graves  with  thought- 
less feet,  as  if  the  rights  of  the  dead  to  their  scanty  bit  of  soil 
were  no  longer  respected.  We  said  to  the  boatman  that  this  did 
not  seem  well.  There  was  a  weary  touch  of  philosophy  in  his 
reply  :    "  Ah,  master,  the  world  grows  old  !  " 

It  is  the  fashion  for  the  world  to  go  on  Friday  to  the  Sweet 
Waters  of  Europe,  the  inlet  of  the  Golden  Horn,  flowing  down 
between  two  ranges  of  hills.  This  vale,  which  is  almost  as  cele- 
brated in  poetry  as  that  of  the  Heavenly  Water  on  the  Asiatic 
shore,  is  resorted  to  by  thousands,  in  hundreds  of  carriages  from 
Pera,  in  thousands  of  caiques  and  barges.  On  the  water,  the 
excursion  is  a  festival  of  the  people,  of  strangers,  of  adventurers 
of  both  sexes;  the  more  fashionable  though  not  moral  part  of 
society,  who  have  equipages  to  display,  go  by  land.  We  chose 
the  water,  and  selected  a  large  four-oared  caique,  in  the  bottom 
of  which  we  seated  ourselves,  after  a  dozen  narrow  escapes  from 
upsetting  the  tottlish  craft,  and  rowed  away,  with  the  gi-ave  Abd- 
el-Atti  balanced  behind  and  under  bonds  to  preserve  his  exact 
equilibrium. 

AU  the  city  seems  to  be  upon  the  water ;  the  stream  is  alive 
Avith  the  slender,  swift  caiques ;  family  pai'ties,  rollicking  mid- 
shipmen from  some  foreign  vessel,  solitary  beauties  reclining  in 
selfish  loveliness,  grave  fat  Turks,  in  stupid  enjoyment.  No 
voyage  coidd  be  gayer  than  this  through  the  shipping,  -with  the 


304  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

multitudinous  houses  of  the  city  rising  on  either  hand.  As  we 
advance,  the  shore  is  lined  with  people,  mostly  ladies  in  gay 
holiday  apparel,  squatting  along  the  stream  ;  as  on  a  spring  day 
in  Paris,  those  w'ho  cannot  afford  carriages  line  the  avenues  to 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  to  watch  the  passing  pageant.  The  stream 
grows  more  narrow,  at  length  winds  in  graceful  turns,  and  finally 
is  only  a  few  yards  wide,  and  the  banks  are  retained  by  masonry. 
The  vale  narrows  also,  and  the  hills  draw  near.  The  water-way 
is  choked  with  gayly  painted  caiques,  full  of  laughing  beauties 
and  reckless  pleasure-seekers,  and  the  reader  of  Egyptian  history 
might  think  himself  in  a  saturnalia  of  the  revel-makers  in  the 
ancient  fete  of  Bubastis  on  the  Nile.  The  women  are  clad  in 
soft  silks,  —  blue,  red,  pink,  yellow,  and  gray,  —  some  of  them 
with  their  faces  tied  up  as  if  they  were  victims  of  toothache, 
others  wearing  the  gauze  veils,  which  enhance  without  concealing 
charms ;  and  the  color  and  beauty  that  nature  has  denied  to  many 
are  imitated  by  paint  and  enamel. 

We  land  and  walk  on.  Singers  and  players  on  curious  instru- 
ments sit  along  the  bank  and  in  groups  under  the  trees,  and  fill 
the  festive  air  with  the  plaintive  and  untrained  Oriental  music. 
The  variety  of  costumes  is  infinite ;  here  we  meet  all  that  is  gay 
and  fantastic  in  Europe  and  Asia.  The  navigation  ends  at  the 
white  marble  palace  and  mosque  which  we  now  see  shining  amid 
the  trees,  fresh  with  May  foliage.  Booths  and  tents,  green  and 
white,  are  erected  everywhere,  and  there  are  many  groups  of 
gypsies  and  fortune-tellers.  The  olive-complexioned,  black-eyed, 
long-haired  women,  who  trade  in  the  secrets  of  the  Orient  and 
the  vices  of  the  Occident,  do  a  thriving  business  with  those  curi- 
ous of  the  future,  or  fascinated  by  the  mysterious  beauty  of  the 
soothsayers.  Besides  the  bands  of  music,  there  ai'e  solitary  bag- 
pipers whose  instrument  is  a  skin,  with  a  pipe  for  a  mouthpiece 
and  another  at  the  opposite  end  having  graduated  holes  for  fin- 
gering ;  and  I  noticed  with  pleasure  that  the  fingering  and  the 
music  continued  long  after  the  musician  had  ceased  to  blow  into 
the  inflated  skin.  Nothing  was  wanting  to  the  most  brilliant 
scene;  ladies  in  bright  groups  on  gay  rugs  and  mats,  children 
weaving  liead-dresses  from  leaves  and  rushes,  crowds  of  carriages, 


THE   CHASE   OF   PLEASURE.  305 

fine  horses  and  gallant  horsemen,  sellers  of  refreshments  balancing 
great  trays  on  their  heads,  and  bearing  tripod  stools,  and  all  de- 
grees of  the  most  cosmopolitan  capital  enjoying  the  charming 
spring  holiday. 

In  the  palace  grounds  dozens  of  peacocks  were  sunning  them- 
selves, and  the  Judas-trees  were  in  full  pink  bloom.  Above  the 
palace  the  river  flows  in  walled  banks,  and  before  it  reaches  it 
tumbles  over  an  artificial  fall  of  rocks,  and  sweeps  round  the 
garden  in  a  graceful  curve.  Beyond  the  palace,  also  on  the  bank 
of  the  stream,  is  a  grove  of  superb  trees  and  a  greensward ;  here 
a  military  band  plays,  and  this  is  the  fashionable  meeting-place 
of  carriages,  where  hundreds  were  ciixling  round  and  round  in 
the  imitated  etiquette  of  Hyde  Park. 

We  came  down  at  sunset,  racing  swiftly  among  the  returning 
caiques,  passing  and  passed  by  laughing  boatsful,  whose  gay 
hangings  trailed  in  the  stream,  as  in  a  pageant  on  the  Grand 
Canal  of  Venice,  and  watching  with  the  interest  of  the  philosopher 
only,  the  light  boat  of  beauty  aud  frailty  pursued  by  the  youthful 
caique  of  inexperience  and  desire.  The  hour  contributed  to  make 
the  scene  one  of  magical  beauty.  To  our  right  lay  the  dark 
cypresses  of  the  vast  cemetery  of  Eyoub  (or  Ayub)  and  the 
shining  mosque  where,  at  their  inauguration,  the  Osmanli  Sul- 
tans are  stiU  girt  with  the  sword  of  their  founder.  At  this  spot, 
in  the  first  siege  of  Constantinople  by  the  Arabs,  fell,  amid  thirty 
thousand  Moslems,  slain  outside  the  Golden  Gate,  the  Aboo 
Ayub,  or  Job,  one  of  the  last  companions  of  the  Prophet.  He 
was  one  of  the  immortal  auxiliaries ;  he  had  fought  at  Beder  and 
Obud  side  by  side  with  Abubeker,  and  he  had  the  honor  to  be 
one  of  the  first  assailants  of  the  Christian  capital,  which  Moham- 
med had  predicted  that  his  followers  should  one  day  possess. 
The  site  of  his  grave,  forgotten  for  seven  centuries,  was  revealed 
to  the  conqueror  of  the  city  by  a  fortunate  vision,  and  the  spot 
was  commemorated  by  a  mosque,  and  a  gathering  congregation 
of  the  dead. 

Clouds  had  collected  in  the  west,  and  the  heavy  smoke  of  in- 
numerable steamers  lay  dark  upon  the  Bosphorus.  But  as  we 
came  down,  the  sun  broke  out  and  gave  us  one  of  those  eff"ects  of 

T 


306  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

which  nature  is  sparing.  On  the  heights  of  Stamboul,  a  dozen 
minarets,  only  half  distinct,  were  touched  by  the  gold  rays ;  the 
windows  of  both  cities,  piled  above  each  other,  blazed  in  it ;  the 
smooth  river  and  the  swift  caiques  were  gilded  by  it;  and  be- 
hind us,  domes  and  spires,  and  the  tapering  shafts  of  the  Muezzin, 
the  bases  hid  by  the  mist,  rose  into  the  heaven  of  the  golden  sun- 
set and  appeared  like  mansions,  and  most  imsubstantial  ones,  in 
the  sky.  And  ever  the  light  caiques  flew  over  the  rosy  water  in  a 
chase  of  pleasure,  in  a  motion  that  satisfied  the  utmost  longing 
for  repose,  while  the  enchantment  of  heaven  seemed  to  have 
dropped  upon  the  earth. 

"  The  world  has  lost  its  gloss  for  us, 

Since  we  went  boating  ou  the  Bosphorus." 

Constantinople  enjoys  or  suffers  the  changeable  weather  ap- 
propriate to  its  cosmopolitan  inhabitants  and  situation,  and  we 
waited  for  a  day  suitable  to  cross  to  Scutari  and  obtain  the  view 
from  Boolgoorloo.  We  finally  accepted  one  of  alternate  clouds 
and  sunshine.  The  connection  between  the  European  city  and  its 
great  suburb  is  maintained  by  frequent  ferry-steamers,  and  I  be- 
lieve that  no  other  mile-passage  in  the  world  can  oft'er  the  traveller 
a  scene  more  animated  or  views  so  varied  and  magnificent.  Near 
the  landing  at  Scutari  stands  a  beacon-tower  ninety  feet  high, 
erected  upon  a  rock  ;  it  has  the  name  of  the  Maiden's  Tower,  but 
I  do  not  know  why,  unless  by  courtesy  to  one  of  the  mistresses 
of  Sultan  Mohammed,  who  is  said  to  have  been  shut  up  in  it. 
Scutari,  —  pronounced  with  the  accent  on  the  first  syllable,  a  cor- 
ruption of  the  Turkish  name  Uskudar,  —  the  site  of  the  old  Greek 
and  Persian  Chrysopolis,  is  a  town  sprawling  over  seven  hills,  has 
plenty  of  mosques,  baths,  and  cemeteries,  —  the  three  Oriental 
luxuries,  —  but  little  to  detain  the  traveller,  already  familiar  with 
Eastern  towns  of  the  sort.  The  spot  has  been  in  all  ages  an 
arriving  and  starting  point  for  Asiatic  couriers,  caravans,  and 
armies ;  here  the  earliest  Greek  sea-robbers  hauled  up  their  ven- 
turous barks  ;  here  Xenophon  rested  after  his  campaign  against 
Cyrus  ;  here  the  Koman  and  then  the  Byzantine  emperors  had 
their  hunting-palaces  ;  here  for  a  long  time  the  Persians  menaced 
and  Avrung  tribute  from  the  city  they  could  not  capture. 


BOORGOORLOO.  307 

We  took  a  carriage  and  ascended  tlirongh  the  city  to  the  moun- 
tain of  Boolgoorloo.  On  the  slopes  above  the  town  are  orchards 
and  ^^neyards  and  pretty  villas.  The  last  ten  minutes  of  the 
climb  was  accomplished  on  foot,  and  when  we  stood  upon  the 
summit  the  world  was  at  our  feet.  I  do  not  know  any  other  view 
that  embraces  so  much  and  such  variety.  The  swelling  top  was 
carpeted  with  grass,  sprinkled  with  spring  floAvers,  and  here  and 
there  a  spreading  pine  offered  a  place  of  shade  and  repose.  Be- 
hind us  continued  range  on  range  the  hiUs  of  the  peninsula ;  to 
the  south  the  eye  explored  Asia  Minor,  the  ancient  Bithynia  and 
Mysia,  until  it  rested  on  the  monstrous  snowy  summits  of  Olym- 
pus, which  rears  itself  beyond  Broussa,  city  famed  for  its  gauzy 
silk  and  the  first  capital  of  the  Osman  dynasty.  Tliere  stretches 
the  blue  Sea  of  Marmora,  bearing  lightly  on  the  surface  the  nine 
enchanting  Princes'  Islands,  whose  equable  climate  and  fertile  soil 
have  obtained  for  them  the  epithet  of  the  Isles  of  the  Blest.  Op- 
posite, Stamboul  rises  out  of  the  water  on  every  side  ;  in  the  dis- 
tance a  city  of  domes  and  pinnacles  and  glass,  the  dai'k-green 
spires  of  cypress  tempering  its  brilliant  lustre ;  there  the  Golden 
Horn  and  its  thronged  bridges  and  its  countless  masts  and  steam- 
ers' funnels  ;  Galata  and  Pera,  also  lifted  up  into  nobility,  and 
all  their  shabby  details  lost,  and  the  Bosphorus,  its  hills,  marble 
palaces,  mosques,  and  gardens,  on  either  side.  I  do  not  know  any 
scene  that  approaches  this  in  beauty  except  the  Bay  of  Naples, 
and  the  charm  of  that  is  so  different  from  this  that  no  comparison 
is  forced  upon  the  mind.  The  Bay  of  New  York  has  many  of  the 
elements  of  this  charming  prospect,  on  the  map.  But  Constan- 
tinople and  its  environs  can  be  seen  from  many  points  in  one 
view,  while  one  Avould  need  to  ascend  a  balloon  to  comprehend  in 
like  manner  the  capital  of  the  Western  world.  It  is  the  situation 
of  Constantinople,  lifted  up  into  a  conspicuousness  that  permits 
no  one  of  its  single  splendors  to  be  lost  in  the  general  view,  that 
makes  it  in  appearance  the  unrivalled  empress  of  cities. 

In  the  foreground  lay  Scutari,  and  in  a  broad  sweep  the  heavy 
mass  of  cypress  forest  that  covers  the  great  cemetery  of  the  Turks, 
which  they  are  said  to  prefer  to  Eyoub,  under  the  prophetic  im- 
pression that  they  will  one  day  be  driven  out  of  Europe,     The 


308  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

precaution  seems  idle.  If  in  the  loss  of  Constantinople  the  Os- 
manli  sultans  still  maintain  the  supremacy  of  Islam,  the  Moslem 
capital  could  not  be  on  these  shores,  and  the  caliphate  in  its  mi- 
grations might  again  be  established  on  the  Nile,  on  the  Euphrates, 
or  in  the  plains  of  Guta  on  the  Abana.  The  iron-clads  that  lie 
in  the  Bosphorus,  the  long  guns  of  a  dozen  fortresses  that  com- 
mand every  foot  of  the  city  and  shore,  forbid  that  these  contiguous 
coasts  should  fly  hostile  flags. 

We  drove  down  to  and  through  this  famous  cemetery  in  one 
direction  and  another.  In  its  beauty  I  was  disappointed.  It  is 
a  dense  and  gloomy  cj'press  forest ;  as  a  place  of  sepulture,  with- 
out the  architectural  pretensions  of  Pere-la-Chaise,  and  only  less 
attractive  than  that.  Its  dark  recesses  are  crowded  with  grave- 
stones, slender  at  the  bottom  and  swelling  at  the  top,  painted  in 
lively  colors,  —  green,  red,  and  gray,  a  necessary  relief  to  the 
sombre  woods,  —  having  inscriptions  in  gilt  and  red  letters,  and 
leaning  at  all  angles,  as  if  they  bad  fallen  out  in  a  quarrel  over 
night.  The  graves  of  the  men  are  distinguished  by  stones  crowned 
with  turbans,  or  with  tarbooshes  painted  red,  —  an  imitation,  in 
short,  of  whatever  head-dress  the  owner  wore  when  alive,  so  that 
perhaps  his  acquaintances  can  recognize  his  tomb  without  reading 
his  name.  Some  of  the  more  ancient  have  the  form  of  a  mould 
of  Charlotte  Russe.  I  saw  more  than  one  set  jauntily  on  one  side, 
which  gave  the  monument  a  rakish  air,  singularly  debonnaire  for 
a  tombstone. 

In  contrast  to  this  vast  assembly  of  the  faithful  is  the  pretty 
English  cemetery,  dedicated  to  the  fallen  in  the  Crimean  war,  — 
a  well-kept  flower-garden,  which  lies  close  to  the  Bosphorus  on  a 
point  opposite  the  old  Seraglio.  We  sat  down  on  the  sea-wall  in 
this  quiet  spot,  where  the  sun  falls  lovingly  and  the  undisturbed 
birds  sing,  and  looked  long  at  the  shifting,  busy  panorama  of  a 
world  that  does  not  disturb  this  repose  ;  and  then  walked  about 
the  garden,  noting  the  headstones  of  soldiers,  —  this  one  killed 
at  Alma,  that  at  Inkermann,  another  at  Balaklava,  and  the  tall, 
graceless  granite  monument  to  eight  thousand  nameless  dead ; 
nameless  here,  but  not  in  many  a  home  and  many  a  heart,  any  more 
than  the  undistinguished  thousands  who  sleep  at  Gettysbm'g  or 
on  a  hundred  otlier  patriot  fields. 


FLORENCE  NIGHTINGALE.  309 

Near  by  is  the  great  hospital  which  Florence  Nightingale  con- 
trolled, and  in  her  memory  we  asked  permission  to  enter  its  wards 
and  visit  its  garden.  After  some  delay  this  was  granted,  but  the 
Turkish  official  said  that  the  hospital  was  for  men,  that  there  was 
no  woman  there,  and  as  for  Miss  Nightingale,  he  had  never  heard 
of  her.  But  we  persevered  and  finally  found  an  officer  who  led 
us  to  the  room  she  occupied,  —  a  large  apartment  now  filled  with 
the  beds  of  the  sick,  and,  like  every  other  part  of  the  establish- 
ment, neat  and  orderly.  But  our  curiosity  to  see  where  the  phi- 
lanthropist had  labored  was  an  enigma  to  the  Turkish  officials  to 
the  last.  They  insisted  at  first  that  we  must  be  relations  of  Miss 
Nightingale,  —  a  supposition  which  I  saw  that  Abd-el-Atti,  who 
always  seeks  the  advantage  of  distinction,  was  inclined  to  favor. 
But  we  said  no.  "Well,  perhaps  it  was  natural  that  Englishmen 
should  indulge  in  the  sentiment  that  moved  us.  But  we  were 
not  Englishmen,  we  were  Americans,  —  they  gave  it  up  entirely. 
The  superintendent  of  the  hospital,  a  courtly  and  elderly  bey, 
who  had  fought  in  the  Crimean  war,  and  whom  our  di'agoman, 
dipping  his  hand  to  the  ground,  saluted  with  the  most  profound 
Egyptian  obeisance,  insisted  upon  serving  us  coffee  in  the  garden 
by  the  fountain  of  gold-fish,  and  we  spent  an  hour  of  quiet  there. 

On  Sunday  at  about  the  hour  that  the  good  people  in  America 
were  beginning  to  think  what  they  should  wear  to  church,  we 
walked  down  to  the  service  in  the  English  Memorial  Church,  on 
the  brow  of  the  hill  in  Pera,  a  pointed  Gothic  building  of  a  rich 
and  pleasing  interior.  Only  once  or  twice  in  many  months  had 
we  been  in  a  Christian  church,  and  it  was,  at  least,  interesting  to 
contrast  its  simple  forms  with  the  elaborate  Greek  ritual  and  the 
endless  repetitions  of  the  Moslem  prayers.  A  choir  of  boys  in- 
toned or  chanted  a  portion  of  the  service,  with  marked  ability, 
and  wholly  relieved  the  audience  of  the  necessity  of  making  re- 
sponses. The  clergymen  executed  the  reading  so  successfully 
that  we  co\ild  only  now  and  then  catch  a  word.  The  service,  so 
far  as  we  were  concerned,  might  as  well  have  been  in  Turkish ; 
and  vet  it  was  not  altogether  lost  on  us.  We  could  disting-uish 
occasionally  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  name  of  Queen  Victoria, 
and  we  caught  some  of  the  Commandments  as  they  whisked  past 


310  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

us.  We  knew  also  when  we  were  in  the  Litany,  from  the  regular 
cadence  of  the  boys'  responses.  But  as  the  entertainment  seemed 
to  be  for  the  benefit  of  the  clergymen  and  boys,  I  did  not  feel  like 
intruding  beyond  the  office  of  a  spectator,  and  I  soon  found  my- 
self reflecting  whether  a  machine  could  not  be  invented  that 
should  produce  the  same  effect  of  sound,  which  was  all  that  the 
congregation  enjoyed. 

Rome  has  been  until  recently  less  tolerant  of  the  Protestant 
faith  than  Constantinople ;  and  it  was  an  inspiration  of  reci- 
procity to  build  here  a  church  in  memory  of  the  Christian  soldiers 
Avho  fell  in  the  crusade  to  establish  the  Moslem  rule  in  European 
Turkey. 

Of  the  various  views  about  Constantinople  we  always  pro- 
nounced that  best  which  we  saw  last,  and  at  the  time  we  said  that 
those  from  Seraglio  Point,  from  Boolgoorloo,  and  from  Roberts 
College  were  crowned  by  that  from  Giant's  Grave  Mountain,  a 
noble  height  on  the  Asiatic  side  of  the  Bosphorus  near  the  Black 
Sea. 

One  charming  morning,  we  ascended  the  strait  in  a  steamboat 
that  calls  at  the  landings  on  the  eastern  shore.  The  Bosphorus, 
if  you  will  have  it  in  a  phrase,  is  a  river  of  lapis  lazuli  lined  with 
marble  palaces.  As  we  saw  it  that  morning,  its  sloping  gardens, 
terraces,  trees,  and  vines  in  the  tender  bloom  of  spring,  all  the 
extravagance  of  the  Oriental  poets  in  praise  of  it  was  justified,  and 
it  was  easy  to  believe  the  nature-romance  with  which  the  earliest 
adventurers  had  clothed  it.  There,  at  Beshiktash,  Jason  landed  to 
rest  his  weary  sailors  on  the  voyage  to  Colchis ;  and  above  there 
at  Koroo  Chesnieh  stood  a  laurel-tree  which  Medea  planted  on 
the  return  of  the  Argonauts.  Tradition  has  placed  near  it,  on 
the  point,  the  site  of  a  less  attractive  object,  the  pillar  upon  which 
Simeon  Stylites  spent  forty  years  of  a  life  which  was  just  forty 
years  too  long;  but  I  do  not  know  by  what  authority,  for  I  be- 
lieve that  the  perch  of  the  Syrian  hermit  was  near  Antioch,  where 
his  noble  position  edified  thousands  of  Christians,  who  enjoyed 
their  piety  in  contemplating  his,  and  took  their  pleasures  in  the 
groves  of  Daphne. 

Our  steamer  was,  at  this  moment,  a  craft  more  dangerous  to 


A  HAREM  AFLOAT.  311 

mankind  than  an  iron-clad  ;  it  was  a  sort  of  floating  harem ;  we 
sat  upon  the  awning-covered  upper  deck ;  the  greater  part  of  the 
lower  deck  was  jealously  curtained  off  and  filled  with  Turkish 
ladies.  Among  them  we  recognized  a  little  flock  of  a  couple  of 
dozen,  the  harem  of  Mustapha  Pasha,  the  uncle  of  the  Khedive 
of  Egypt.  They  left  the  boat  at  his  palace  in  Chenguel  Keuy, 
and  we  saw  them,  in  silk  gowns  of  white,  red,  blue,  and  yellow, 
streaming  across  the  flower-garden  into  the  marble  portal,  —  a 
pretty  picture.  The  pasha  was  transferring  his  household  to  the 
country  for  the  summer,  and  we  imagined  that  the  imprisoned  troop 
entered  these  blooming  May  gardens  with  the  elation  of  freedom, 
which  might,  however,  be  more  perfect  if  eunuchs  did  not  watch 
every  gate  and  foot  of  the  garden  Avail.  I  suppose,  however,  that 
few  of  them  would  be  willing  to  exchange  their  lives  of  idle  lux- 
ury for  the  misery  and  chance  of  their  former  condition,  and  it  is 
said  that  the  maids  of  the  so-called  Christian  Georgia  hear  with 
envy  of  the  good  fortune  of  their  sisters,  who  have  brought  good 
prices  in  the  Turkish  capital. 

When  the  harem  disappeared  we  found  some  consolation  in  a 
tall  Croat,  who  strutted  up  and  down  the  deck  in  front  of  us,  that 
we  might  sicken  with  envy  of  his  splendid  costume.  He  wore 
tight  trousers  of  blue  cloth,  baggy  in  the  rear  but  fitting  the 
legs  like  a  glove,  and  terminating  over  the  shoes  in  a  quilled  in- 
verted funnel ;  a  brilliant  scarf  of  Syrian  silk  in  loose  folds  about 
his  loins ;  a  vest  stiff  with  gold-embroidery ;  a  scarlet  jacket 
decked  A\-ith  gold-lace,  and  on  his  head  a  red  fez.  This  is  the 
costly  dress  of  a  Croatian  gardener,  who  displays  all  his  wealth 
to  make  a  holiday  spectacle  of  himself. 

We  sailed  close  to  the  village  of  Kandili  and  tlie  promontory 
under  which  and  upon  which  it  lies,  a  site  which  exhausts  the 
capacity  of  the  loveliness  of  nature  and  the  skill  of  art.  From 
the  villas  on  its  height  one  commands,  by  a  shifted  glance,  the 
Euxine  and  the  Marmora,  and  whatever  is  most  lovely  in  the 
prospect  of  two  continents ;  the  purity  of  the  air  is  said  to  equal 
the  charm  of  the  view.  Above  this  promontory  opens  the  valley 
down  which  flows  the  river  Geuksoo  (sky-water),  and  at  the  north 
of  it  stands  a  white  marble  kiosk  of  the  Sultan,  the  most  beauti- 


312  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

ful  architectural  creation  on  the  strait.  Near  it,  shaded  by  great 
trees,  is  a  handsome  fountain ;  beyond  the  green  turf  in  the  tree- 
decked  vale  which  pierces  the  hill  were  groups  of  holiday-makers 
in  gay  attire.  I  do  not  know  if  this  Valley  of  the  Heavenly 
Water  is  the  loveliest  in  the  East,  but  it  is  said  that  its  charms 
of  meadow,  shade,  sweet  water,  and  scented  flowers  are  a  sub- 
stantial foretaste  of  the  paradise  of  the  true  believer.  But  it  is 
in  vain  to  catalogue  the  charming  villages,  the  fresh  beauties  of 
nature  and  art  to  which  each  revolution  of  the  paddle-wheel 
carried  us.  We  thought  we  should  be  content  with  a  summer 
residence  of  the  Khedive,  on  the  European  side  below  the  lovely 
bay  of  Terapea,  with  its  vast  hillside  of  gardens  and  orchards 
and  the  long  line  of  palaces  on  the  water.  Fanned  by  the  in- 
vigorating breezes  from  the  Black  Sea,  its  summer  climate  must 
be  perfect. 

We  landed  at  Beicos,  and,  in  default  of  any  conveyance,  walked 
up  through  the  straggling  village,  along  the  shore,  to  a  verdant, 
shady  meadow,  sweet  with  clover  and  wild-flowers.  This  is  in 
the  valley  of  Hun-Kiar  Iskelesi,  a  favorite  residence  of  the  sul- 
tans ;  here  on  a  projecting  rocky  point  is  a  reddish  palace  built 
and  given  to  the  Sultan  by  the  Khedive.  The  meadow,  in  which 
we  Avere,  is  behind  a  palace  of  old  Mohammed  Ali,  and  it  is  now 
used  as  a  pasture  for  the  Sultan's  horses,  dozens  of  which  were 
tethered  and  feeding  in  the  lush  grass  and  clover.  The  tents 
of  their  attendants  were  pitched  on  the  plain,  and  groups  of 
Turkish  ladies  were  picnicking  under  the  large  sycamores.  It  was 
a  charming  rural  scene.  I  made  the  silent  acquaintance  of  an  old 
man,  in  a  white  turban  and  flowing  robes,  who  sat  in  the  grass 
knitting  and  watching  his  one  white  lamb  feed  ;  probably  knitting 
the  fleece  of  his  lamb  of  the  year  before. 

We  were  in  search  of  an  araha  and  team  to  take  us  up  the 
mountain ;  one  stood  in  the  meadow  which  we  could  hire,  but 
oxen  were  wanting,  and  we  despatched  a  Greek  boy  in  search 
of  the  animals.  The  Turkish  ladies  of  fashion  delight  in  the 
araba  when  they  ride  into  the  country,  greatly  preferring  it  to  the 
horse  or  donkey,  or  to  any  other  carriage.  It  is  a  long  cart  of 
four  wheels,  without  springs,  but  it  is  as  stately  in  appearance  as 


THE  TURKISH   ARABA.  313 

the  band-wagoa  of  a  circus ;  its  sloping  side-boards  and  even  the 
platform  in  front  are  elaborately  carved  and  gdded.  While  we 
waited  the  motions  of  the  boy,  who  joined  to  himself  two  others 
even  more  prone  to  go  astray  than  himself,  an  officer  of  the 
royal  stables  invited  us  to  take  seats  under  the  shade  of  his  tent 
and  served  us  with  coffee.  After  an  hour  the  boy  returned  with 
two  lean  steers.  The  rude,  hooped  top  of  the  araba  was  spread 
with  a  purple  cloth,  a  thick  bedquilt  covered  the  bottom,  and  by 
the  aid  of  a  ladder  we  climbed  into  the  ark  and  sat  or  lay  as  we 
could  best  stow  ourselves.  A  boy  led  the  steers  by  a  rope, 
another  walked  at  the  side  gently  goading  them  with  a  stick,  and 
we  rumbled  along  slowly  through  the  brilliant  meadows.  It 
became  evident  after  a  time  that  we  were  not  ascending  the 
mountain,  but  going  into  the  heart  of  the  country ;  the  cart  was 
stopped  and  the  wild  driver  was  interrogated.  I  never  saw  a 
human  being  so  totally  devoid  of  a  conscience.  We  had  hired  him 
to  take  us  up  to  Giant's  Grave  Mountain.  He  was  deliberately 
cheating  us  out  of  it.  At  first  he  insisted  that  he  was  going  in 
the  right  direction,  but  upon  the  application  of  the  dragoman's 
fingers  to  his  ear,  he  pleaded  that  the  mountain  road  was  bad  and 
that  it  was  just  as  well  for  us  to  visit  the  Sultan's  farm  up  the 
valley.  We  had  come  seven  thousand  miles  to  see  the  view  from 
the  mountain,  but  this  boy  had  not  the  least  scruple  in  depriv- 
ing us  of  it.  We  turned  about  and  entered  a  charming  glen, 
thoroughly  New  England  in  its  character,  set  with  small  trees 
and  shrubs  and  carpeted  with  a  turf  of  short  sweet  grass.  One 
needs  to  be  some  months  in  the  Orient  to  appreciate  the  delight 
experienced  by  the  sight  of  genuine  turf. 

As  we  ascended,  the  road,  gullied  by  the  spring  torrents,  at 
last  became  impassable  for  wheels,  and  we  were  obliged  to  aban- 
don the  araba  and  perform  the  last  half-mile  of  the  journey  on 
foot.  The  sightly  summit  of  the  mountain  is  nearly  six  hundred 
feet  above  the  water.  There,  in  a  lovely  grove,  we  found  a  coffee- 
house and  a  mosque  and  the  Giant's  Grave,  which  the  Moslems 
call  the  grave  of  Joshua.  It  is  a  flower-planted  enclosure,  seventy 
feet  long  and  seven  wide,  ample  for  any  hero ;  the  railing  about 
it  is  tagged  with  bits  of  cloth  which  pious  devotees  have  tied 
14 


314  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

there  in  the  expectation  that  their  diseases,  perhaps  their  sins, 
will  vanish  with  the  airing  of  these  shreds.  From  the  minaret  is 
a  wonderful  view,  —  the  entire  length  of  the  Bosphorus,  with  all 
its  windings  and  lovely  bays  enlivened  with  white  sails,  ships  at 
anchor,  and  darting  steamers,  rich  in  villages,  ancient  castles,  and 
forts ;  a  great  portion  of  Asia  Minor,  with  the  snow  peaks  of 
Olympus ;  on  the  south,  the  Islands  of  the  Blest  and  the  Sea 
of  Marmora ;  on  the  north,  the  Cyanean  rocks  and  the  wide  sweep 
of  the  Euxine,  blue  as  heaven  and  dotted  with  a  hundred  white 
sails,  overlooked  by  the  ruin  of  a  Genoese  castle,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Bosphorus,  built  on  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Jupiter,  and  the 
spot  where  the  Argonauts  halted  before  they  ventured  among  the 
Symplegades ;  and  immediately  below,  Terapea  and  the  deep  bay 
of  Buyukdereh,  the  summer  resort  of  the  foreign  residents  of 
Constantinople,  a  paradise  of  palaces  and  gardens,  of  vales  and 
stately  plane-trees,  and  the  entrance  to  the  interior  village  of 
Belgrade,  with  its  sacred  forest  unprofaned  as  yet  l^y  the  axe. 

The  Cyanean  rocks  which  Jason  and  his  mariners  regarded  as 
floating  islands,  or  sentient  monsters,  vanishing  and  reappearing, 
are  harmlessly  anchored  now,  and  do  not  appear  at  all  formidable, 
though  they  disappear  now  as  of  old  when  the  fierce  Euxine  rolls 
in  its  storm  waves.  For  a  long  time  and  with  insatiable  curiosity 
we  followed  with  the  eye  the  line  of  the  coast  of  the  Pontus 
Euxinus,  once  as  thickly  set  with  towns  as  the  Eiviera  of  Italy,  — 
cities  of  Ionian,  Dorian,  and  Athenian  colonies,  who  followed  the 
Phoenicians  and  perhaps  the  Egyptians,  —  in  the  vain  hope  of 
extending  our  vision  to  Trebizond,  to  the  sea  fortress  of  Petra, 
renowned  for  its  defence  by  the  soldiers  of  Chosroes  against  the 
arms  of  Justinian,  and,  further,  to  the  banks  of  the  Phasis,  to 
Colchis,  whose  fabulous  wealth  tempted  Jason  and  his  sea-rob- 
bers. The  waters  of  this  land  were  so  impregnated  with  particles 
of  gold  that  fleeces  of  sheep  were  nsed  to  strain  out  the  yellow 
metal.  Its  palaces  shone  with  gold  and  silver,  and  you  might 
expect  in  its  gardens  the  fruit  of  the  Hesperides.  In  the  vales 
of  the  Caucasus,  we  are  taught,  our  race  has  attained  its  most 
perfect  form  ;  in  other  days  its  men  were  as  renowned  for  strength 
and  valor  as  its  women  were  for  beauty,  —  the  one  could  not  be 


THE  BEAUTIES  OF  THE  CAUCASUS.  315 

permanently  subdued,  the  others  conquered,  even  in  their  slavery.' 
Early  converts  to  the  Christian  faith,  they  never  adopted  its 
morals  nor  comprehended  its  metaphysics ;  and  perhaps  a  more 
dissolute  and  venal  society  does  not  exist  than  that  whose  busi- 
ness for  centuries  has  been  the  raising  of  maids  for  the  Turkish 
harems.  And  the  miserable,  though  willing,  victims  are  said  to 
possess  not  even  beauty,  until  after  a  training  in  luxury  by  the 
slave-dealers. 

We  made  our  way,  not  without  difficulty,  down  the  rough, 
bush-grown  hillside,  invaded  a  new  Turkish  fortification,  and  at 
length  found  a  place  where  we  could  descend  the  precipitous  bank 
and  summon  a  boat  to  ferry  us  across^o  Buyukdereh.  This  was 
not  easy  to  obtain  ;  but  finally  an  aged  Greek  boatman  appeared 
with  a  caique  as  aged  and  decayed  as  himself.  The  chances 
seemed  to  be  that  it  could  make  the  voyage,  and  we  all  packed 
ourselves  into  it,  sitting  on  the  bottom  and  filling  it  completely. 
There  was  little  margin  of  boat  above  the  water,  and  any  sudden 
motion  would  have  reduced  that  to  nothing.  We  looked  wise 
and  sat  still,  whde  the  old  Greek  pulled  feebly  and  praised  the 
excellence  of  his  craft.  On  the  opposite  slope  our  attention  was 
called  to  a  pretty  cottage,  and  a  Constantinople  lady,  who  was  of 
the  party,  began  to  tell  us  the  story  of  its  occupant.  So  dra- 
matic and  exciting  did  it  become  that  we  forgot  entirely  the 
peril  of  our  fi'ail  and  overloaded  boat.  The  story  finished  as  we 
drew  up  to  the  landing,  which  we  instantly  comprehended  we  had 
not  reached  a  moment  too  soon.  For  when  we  arose  our  clothes 
were  soaked ;  we  were  sitting  in  water,  which  was  rapidly  filling 
the  boat,  and  would  have  swamped  it  in  five  minutes.  The  land- 
ing-place of  Buyukdereh,  the  bay,  the  hills  and  villas,  reminded 
us  of  Lake  Como,  and  the  quay  and  streets  were  rather  Italian 
than  Oriental.  The  most  soaked  of  the  voyagers  stood  outside 
the  railing  of  the  pretty  garden  of  the  caje  to  dry  in  the  sun, 
while  the  others  sat  inside,  under  the  vines,  and  passed  out  to 
the  unfortunates,  through  the  iron  bars,  tiny  cups  of  cofl:ee,  and 
fed  them  with  rahat-al-lacoom  and  other  delicious  sweetmeats, 
until  the  arrival  of  the  steamer.  The  ride  down  was  lovely  ;  the 
sun  made  the  barracks  and  palaces  on  the  east  shore  a  blaze  of 


316  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

diamonds ;  and  the  minarets  seen  through  the  steamer's  smoke 
which,  transfused  mth  the  rosy  light,  overhung  the  city,  had  a 
phantasmagorical  aspect. 

Constantinople  shares  with  many  other  cities  the  reputation 
of  being  the  most  dissolute  in  the  world.  The  traveller  is  not 
required  to  decide  the  rival  claims  of  this  sort  of  pre-eminence, 
which  are  eagerly  put  forward ;  he  may  better,  in  each  city,  acqui- 
esce in  the  complaisant  assumption  of  the  inhabitants.  But  when 
he  is  required  to  see  in  the  moral  state  of  the  Eastern  capital 
signs  of  its  speedy  decay,  and  the  near  extinction  of  the  Othman 
nde,  he  takes  a  leaf  out  of  history  and  reflects.  It  is  true,  no 
doubt,  that  the  Turks  are  enfeebled  by  luxury  and  sensuality,  and 
have,  to  a  great  extent,  lost  those  virile  qualities  which  gave  to 
their  ancestors  the  dominion  of  so  many  kingdoms  in  Asia,  Africa, 
and  Europe  ;  in  short,  that  the  race  is  sinking  into  an  incapacity 
to  propagate  itself  in  the  world.  If  one  believes  what  he  hears, 
the  morals  of  society  could  not  be  worse.  The  women,  so  many 
of  whom  have  been  bought  in  the  market,  or  are  daughters  of 
slaves,  are  educated  only  for  pleasure  ;  and  a  great  proportion  of 
the  male  population  are  adventurers  from  all  lands,  with  few  do- 
mestic ties.  The  very  relaxation  of  the  surveillance  of  the  harem 
(the  necessary  prelude  to  the  emancipation  of  woman)  opens  the 
door  to  opportunity,  and  gives  freer  play  to  feminine  intrigue. 
One  hears,  indeed,  that  even  the  inmates  of  the  royal  harem  find 
means  of  clandestine  intercourse  with  the  foreigners  of  Pera.  The 
history  of  the  Northern  and  Western  occupation  of  the  East  has 
been,  for  fifteen  centuries,  only  a  repetition  of  yielding  to  the 
seductive  influences  of  a  luxurious  climate  and  to  soft  and  pleas- 
ing invitation. 

But,  heighten  as  we  may  the  true  and  immoral  picture  of  social 
life  in  Constantinople,  I  doubt  if  it  is  so  loose  and  unrestrained 
as  it  was  for  centuries  under  the  Greek  Emperors ;  I  doubt  if  the 
imbecility,  the  luxurious  eff"eminacy  of  the  Turks  has  sunk  to  the 
level  of  the  Byzantine  Empire ;  and  when  we  are  asked  to  expect 
in  the  decay  of  to-day  a  speedy  dissolution,  we  remember  that  for 
a  period  of  over  a  thousand  years,  from  the  partition  of  the  Ro- 
man Empire  between  the  two  sons  of  Theodosius  to  the  capture 


THE   DECAY   OF   A   THOUSAND   YEARS.  317 

of  Constantinople  by  Mohammed  II.,  the  empire  subsisted  in  a 
state  of  premature  and  perpetual  decay.  These  Oriental  dynasties 
are  a  long  time  in  dying,  and  we  cannot  measure  theu*  decrepi- 
tude by  the  standards  of  Occidental  morality. 

The  trade  and  the  commerce  of  the  city  are  largely  in  the 
hands  of  foreigners  ;  but  it  has  nearly  always  been  so,  since  the 
days  of  the  merchants  and  manufacturers  of  Pisa,  Genoa,  and 
Venice.  We  might  draw  aii  inference  of  Turkish  insecurity  from 
the  implacable  hatred  of  the  so-called  Greek  subjects,  if  the  latter 
were  not  in  the  discord  of  a  thousand  years  of  anarchy  and  ser- 
vitude. The  history  of  the  islands  of  the  Eastern  Mediterranean 
has  been  a  succession  of  Turkish  avarice  and  rapacity,  horrible 
Greek  revenge  and  Turkish  wholesale  devastation  and  massacre, 
repeated  over  and  over  again  ;  but  there  appears  as  yet  no  power 
able  either  to  expel  the  Turks  or  unite  the  Greeks.  That  the 
leaven  of  change  is  working  in  the  Levant  is  evident  to  the  most 
superficial  observation,  and  one  sees  everywhere  the  introduction 
of  Western  civilization,  of  business  habits,  and,  above  all,  of 
schools.  However  indifferent  the  Osmanlis  are  to  education, 
they  are  not  insensible  to  European  opinion  ;  and  in  reckoning  up 
their  bad  qualities,  we  ought  not  to  forget  that  they  have  set  some 
portions  of  Christendom  a  lesson  of  religious  toleration,  — =-  both 
in  Constantinople  and  Jerusalem  the  Christians  were  allowed  a 
freedom  of  worship  in  their  own  churches  which  was  not  permit- 
ted to  Protestants  within  the  sacred  walls  of  Pontifical  Rome. 

One  who  would  paint  the  manners  or  the  morals  of  Constanti- 
nople might  adorn  his  theme  with  many  anecdotes,  characteristic 
of  a  condition  of  society  which  is  foreign  to  our  experience.  I 
select  one  which  has  the  merit  of  being  literally  true.  You  who 
believe  that  modern  romance  exists  only  in  tales  of  fiction,  listen 
to  the  story  of  a  beauty  of  Constantinople,  the  vicissitudes  of 
whose  life  equal  in  variety  if  not  in  importance  those  of  Theodora 
and  Athenais.     For  obvious  reasons,  I  shall  mention  no  names. 

There  lives  now  on  the  banks  of  the  Bosphorus  an  English 
physician,  who,  at  the  entreaty  of  Lord  Byron,  went  to  Greece  in 
1824  as  a  volunteer  surgeon  in  the  war  of  independence;  he 
arrived  only  in  time  to  see  the  poet  expire  at  Missolonghi.     In 


318  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

the  course  of  the  war,  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Egj^tian 
troops,  who  in  their  great  need  of  surgeons  kept  him  actively  era- 
ployed  in  his  profession.  He  did  not  regain  his  freedom  until 
after  the  war,  and  then  only  on  condition  that  he  should  reside  in 
Constantinople  as  one  of  the  physicians  of  the  Sultan,  Moham- 
med II. 

We  may  suppose  that  the  Oriental  life  was  not  unpleasant,  nor 
the  position  irksome  to  him,  for  he  soon  so  far  yielded  to  the 
temptations  of  the  capital  as  to  fall  in  love  with  a  very  pretty  face 
which  he  saw  daily  in  a  bay-window  of  the  street  he  traversed 
on  the  way  to  the  Seraglio.  Acquaintance,  which  sometimes 
precedes  love,  in  this  case  followed  it ;  the  doctor  declared  his 
passion  and  was  accepted  by  the  willing  maid.  But  an  Oriental 
bay-window  is  the  opportunity  of  the  world,  and  the  doctor, 
becoming  convinced  that  his  affianced  was  a  desperate  flirt,  and 
yielding  to  the  entreaties  of  his  friends,  broke  off  the  engage- 
ment and  left  her  free,  in  her  eyry,  to  continue  her  observations 
upon  mankind.  This,  however,  did  not  suit  the  plans  of  the 
lovely  and  fickle  girl.  One  morning,  shortly  after,  he  was  sum- 
moned to  see  two  Turkish  ladies  who  awaited  him  in  his  office  ; 
when  he  appeared,  the  young  girl  (for  it  was  she)  and  her  mother 
threw  aside  their  disguise,  and  declared  that  they  would  not  leave 
the  house  until  the  doctor  man-ied»the  daughter,  for  the  rupture 
of  the  engagement  had  rendered  it  impossible  to  procure  any 
other  husband.  Whether  her  own  beauty  or  the  terrible  aspect 
of  the  mother  prevailed,  I  do  not  know,  but  the  English  chaplain 
was  sent  for ;  he  refused  to  perform  the  ceremony,  and  a  Greek 
priest  was  found  who  married  them. 

This  marriage,  which  took  the  appearance  of  duress,  might 
have  been  happy  if  the  compelling  party  to  it  had  left  her  fond- 
ness of  adventure  and  variety  at  the  wedding  threshold  ;  but  her 
constancy  was  only  assumed,  like  the  Turkish  veil,  for  an  occa- 
sion ;  lovers  were  not  wanting,  and  after  the  birth  of  three  chil- 
dren, two  sons  and  a  daughter,  she  deserted  her  husband  and 
went  to  live  with  a  young  Turk,  who  has  since  held  high  office  in 
the  government  of  the  Sultan.  It  was  in  her  character  of  Madame 
Mehemet  Pasha  that  she  wrote  (or  one  of  her  sons  wrote  for 


A  STRANGE  STORY.  319 

her)  a  "book  well  known  in  the  West,  entitled  "  Thirty  Years  in 
a  Harem."  But  her  intriguing  spirit  was  not  extinct  even  in  a 
Turkish  harem  ;  she  attempted  to  palm  off  upon  the  pasha,  as 
her  own,  a  child  that  she  had  bought ;  her  device  was  detected  by 
one  of  the  palace  eunuchs,  and  at  the  same  time  her  amour  with 
a  Greek  of  the  city  came  to  light.  The  eunuch  incurred  her  dis- 
pleasure for  his  officiousness,  and  she  had  him  strangled  and 
thrown  into  the  Bosphorus.  Some  say  that  the  resolute  woman 
even  assisted  \nih  her  own  hands.  For  these  breaches  of  decorum, 
however,  she  paid  dear ;  the  pasha  banished  her  to  Kutayah,  with 
orders  to  the  guard  who  attended  her  to  poison  her  on  the  way ; 
but  she  so  won  upon  the  affection  of  the  officer  that  he  let  her 
escape  at  Broussa.  There  her  beauty,  if  not  her  piety,  recom- 
mended her  to  an  Imam  of  one  of  the  mosques,  and  she  married 
him  and  seems  for  a  time  to  have  led  a  quiet  life ;  at  any  rate, 
nothing  further  was  heard  of  her  until  just  before  the  famous 
cholera  season,  when  news  came  of  the  death  of  her  husband,  the 
Moslem  priest,  and  that  she  was  living  in  extreme  poverty,  all  her 
beauty  gone  forever,  and  consequently  her  ability  to  procure  an- 
other husband. 

The  pasha,  Mehemet,  lived  in  a  beautiful  palace  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  Bosphorus,  near  Kandili.  During  the  great  cholera 
epidemic  of  1865,  the  pasha  was  taken  ill.  One  day  there  ap- 
peared at  the  gate  an  unknown  woman,  who  said  that  she  had 
come  to  cure  the  pasha ;  no  one  knew  her,  but  she  spoke  with 
authority,  and  was  admitted.  It  was  our  adventuress.  She 
nursed  the  pasha  with  the  most  tender  care  and  watchful  skill,  so 
that  he  recovered ;  and,  in  gratitude  for  the  preservation  of  his 
life,  he  permitted  her  and  her  daughter  to  remain  in  the  palace. 
For  some  time  they  were  contented  with  the  luxury  of  such  a 
home,  but  one  day  —  it  was  the  evening  of  Wednesday  —  neither 
mother  nor  daughter  was  to  be  found  ;  and  upon  examination  it 
was  discovered  that  a  large  collection  of  precious  stones  and  some 
ready  money  had  disappeared  with  them.  They  had  departed  on 
the  French  steamer,  in  order  to  transfer  their  talents  to  the  fields 
of  Europe.  The  fate  of  the  daughter  I  do  not  know  ;  for  some 
time  she  and  her  mother  were  conspicuous  in  the  dissipation  of 


320  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

Paris  life ;  subsequently  the  mother  lived  with  a  son  in  London, 
and,  since  I  heard  her  story  in  Constantinople,  she  has  died  in* 
London  in  misery  and  want. 

The  further  history  of  the  doctor  and  his  family  may  detain  our 
curiosity  for  a  moment.  When  his  wife  left  him  for  the  arms  of 
the  pasha,  he  experienced  so  much  difficulty  in  finding  any  one  in 
Constantinople  to  take  care  of  his  chihlren  that  he  determined  to 
send  them  to  Scotland  to  be  educated,  and  intrusted  them,  for 
that  purpose,  to  a  friend  who  was  returning  to  England.  They 
went  by  way  of  Rome.  It  happened  that  the  mother  and  sister 
of  the  doctor  had  some  time  before  that  come  to  Rome,  for  the 
sake  of  health,  and  had  there  warmly  embraced  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic faith.  Of  course  the  three  children  were  taken  to  see  their 
grandmother  and  aunt,  and  the  latter,  concerned  for  their  eternal 
welfare,  diverted  them  from  their  journey,  and  immured  the  boys 
in  a  monastery  and  the  girl  in  a  convent.  The  father,  when  he 
heard  of  this  abduction,  expressed  indignation,  but,  ha\'ing  at  that 
time  only  such  religious  faith  as  may  be  floating  in  the  Oriental 
air  and  common  to  all,  he  made  no  vigorous  effort  to  recover  his 
children.  Indeed,  he  consoled  himself,  in  the  fashion  of  the 
country,  by  man-ying  again ;  this  time  a  Greek  lady,  who  died, 
leaving  two  boys.  The  doctor  was  successful  in  transporting  the 
offspring  of  his  second  marriage  to  Scotland,  where  they  were 
educated  ;  and  they  returned  to  do  him  honor,  —  one  of  them  as 
the  eloquent  and  devoted  pastor  of  a  Protestant  church  in  Pera, 
and  the  other  as  a  physician  in  the  employment  of  the  government. 

After  the  death  of  his  second  wife,  the  doctor  —  I  can  but  tell 
the  story  as  I  heard  it  —  became  a  changed  man,  and  ■ —  married 
again  ;  this  time  a  Swiss  lady,  of  lovely  Chi'istian  character.  In 
his  changed  condition,  he  began  to  feel  anxious  to  recover  his 
children  from  the  grasp  of  Rome.  He  wrote  for  information,  but 
his  sister  refused  to  tell  where  they  were,  and  his  search  could 
discover  no  trace  of  them.  At  length  the  father  obtained  leave 
of  absence  from  the  Seraglio,  and  armed  with  an  autograph  letter 
from  Abdul  Aziz  to  Pius  IX.,  he  went  to  Rome.  The  Pope  gave 
him  an  order  for  the  restoration  of  his  children.  He  drove  first 
to  the  convent  to  see  his  daughter.     In  place  of  the  little  girl 


THE   SEQUEL   OF   THE   ROMANCE.  321 

whom  he  had  years  ago  parted  with,  he  found  a  young  lady  of  ex- 
traordinary beauty,  and  a  devoted  Romanist.  At  first  she  refused 
to  go  with  him,  and  it  was  only  upon  his  promise  to  allow  her 
perfect  liberty  of  conscience,  and  never  to  interfere  with  any  of 
the  observances  of  her  church,  that  she  consented.  Not  daring 
to  lose  sight  of  her,  he  waited  for  her  to  pack  her  trunk,  and  then, 
putting  her  into  a  carriage,  drove  to  the  monastery  where  he  heard, 
after  many  inquiries,  that  his  boys  were  confined.  The  monk  who 
admitted  him  denied  that  they  were  there,  and  endeavored  to  lock 
him  into  the  waiting-room  whde  he  went  to  call  the  Superior. 
But  the  doctor  anticipated  his  movements,  and  as  soon  as  the 
monk  was  out  of  sight,  started  to  explore  the  house.  By  good 
luck  the  first  door  he  opened  led  into  a  chamber  where  a  sick  boy 
was  lying  on  a  bed.  The  doctor  believed  that  he  recognized  one 
of  his  sons  ;  a  few  questions  satisfied  him  that  he  was  right.  "  I 
am  your  father,"  he  said  to  the  astonished  lad,  "run  quickly  and 
call  your  brother  and  come  with  me."  Monastic  discipline  had 
not  so  many  attractions  for  the  boys  as  convent  life  for  the  girl, 
and  the  child  ran  with  alacrity  and  brought  his  brother,  just  as 
the  abbot  and  a  score  of  monks  appeared  upon  the  scene.  As  the 
celerity  of  the  doctor  had  given  no  opportunity  to  conceal  the  boys, 
opposition  to  the  order  of  the  Pope  was  useless,  and  the  father 
hastened  to  the  gate  where  he  had  left  the  carriage.  Meantime 
the  aunt  had  heard  of  the  rescue,  and  followed  the  girl  from  the 
convent ;  she  implored  her,  by  tears  and  prayers,  to  reverse  her 
decision.  The  doctor  cut  short  the  scene  by  shoving  his  sons  into 
the  carriage  and  driAdng  rapidly  away.  Nor  did  he  trust  them 
long  in  Rome. 

The  subsequent  career  of  the  boys  is  not  dwelt  on  with  pleasure. 
One  of  them  enlisted  in  the  Turkish  army,  married  a  Turkish 
wife,  and,  after  some  years,  deserted  her,  and  ran  away  to  England. 
His  wife  was  taken  into  a  pasha's  family,  who  oifered  to  adopt 
her  only  child,  a  boy  of  four  years  ;  but  the  mother  preferred  to 
bring  him  to  his  grandfather.  None  of  the  family  had  seen  her, 
but  she  established  her  identity,  and  begged  that  her  child  might 
be  adopted  by  a  good  man,  which  she  knew  his  grandfather  to  be, 
and  receive  a  Christian  training.  The  doctor,  therefore,  adopted 
14*  *  u 


322  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

the  grandcliild,  which  had  come  to  him  in  such  a  strange  way,  and 
the  mother  shortly  after  died. 

The  daughter,  whose  acquired  accomplishments  matched  her 
inherited  beauty,  married,  in  time,  a  Venetian  Count  of  wealth ; 
and  the  idler  in  Venice  may  see  on  the  Grand  Canal,  among  those 
mouldy  edifices  that  could  reveal  so  many  romances,  their  sump- 
tuous palace,  and  learn,  if  he  cares  to  learn,  that  it  is  the  home 
of  a  family  happy  in  the  enjoyment  of  most  felicitous  fortune.  In 
the  gossip  with  which  the  best  Italian  society  sometimes  amuses 
itself,  he  might  hear  that  the  Countess  was  the  daughter  of  a  slave 
of  the  Sultan's  harem.  I  have  given,  however,  the  ti-ue  version  of 
the  romantic  story  ;  but  I  am  ignorant  of  the  social  condition  oi 
the  race  of  the  mother  of  the  heroine  of  so  many  adventures.  She 
may  have  been  born  in  the  Caucasus. 


XXVII. 

FEOM  THE  GOLDEN  HORN  TO  THE  ACROPOLIS. 


OUR  last  day  in  Constantinople  was  a  bright  invitation  for  us  to 
remain  forever.  We  could  have  departed  without  regret  in  a 
rain-storm,  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to  resolve  to  look  our  last  upon 
this  shining  city  and  marvellous  landscape  under  the  blue  sky  of 
May.  Early  in  the  morning  we  climbed  up  the  Genoese  Tower 
in  Galata  and  saw  the  hundred  crescents  of  Stamboul  sparkle  in 
the  sun,  the  Golden  Horn  and  the  Bosphorus,  shifting  panoramas 
of  trade  and  pleasure,  the  Propontis  with  its  purple  islands,  and 
the  azure  and  snowy  mountains  of  Asia.  This  massive  tower  is 
now  a  fire-signal  station,  and  night  and  day  watchmen  look  out 
from  its  battleraented  gallery ;  the  Seraskier  Tower  opposite  in 
Stamboul,  and  another  on  the  heights  of  the  Asiatic  shore,  keep 
the  same  watch  over  the  inflammable  city.  The  guard  requested  us 
not  to  open  our  parasols  upon  the  gallery  for  fear  they  would  be 
hailed  as  fire-signals. 

The  day  was  spent  in  last  visits  to  the  bazaars,  in  packing  and 
leave-takings,  and  the  passage  of  the  custom-house,  for  the  govern- 
ment encourages  trade  by  an  export  as  well  as  an  import  duty.  I 
did  not  see  any  of  the  officials,  but  Abd-el-Atti,  wlio  had  charge 
of  shipping  our  baggage,  reported  that  the  eyes  of  the  customs 
inspector  were  each  just  the  size  of  a  five-franc  piece.  Chief 
among  our  regrets  at  setting  our  faces  toward  Europe  was  the  ne- 
cessity of  parting  with  Abd-el-Atti  and  Ahmed ;  the  former  had 
been  our  faithful  dragoman  and  daily  companion  for  five  months, 
and  we  had  not  yet  exhausted  his  adventures  nor  his  stores  of 
Oriental  humor;   and  we  could  not  exnect  to  find  elsewhere  a 


324  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

character  like  Ahmed,  a  person  so  shrewd  and  obliging,  and  of 
such  amusing  vivacity.  At  four  o'clock  we  embarked  upon  an 
Italian  steamer  for  Salonica  and  Athens,  a  four  days'  voyage.  At 
the  last  moment  Abd-el-Atti  would  have  gone  with  us  upon  the 
least  encouragement,  but  we  had  no  fvu'ther  need  of  dragoman  or 
interpreter,  and  the  old  man  sad'y  descended  the  ladder  to  his 
boat.  I  can  see  him  yet,  his  red  fez  in  the  stem  of  the  caique, 
waving  his  large  silk  handkerchief,  and  slowly  rowing  back  to 
Pera,  —  a  melancholy  figure. 

As  Ave  steamed  out  of  the  harbor  we  enjoyed  the  view  we  had 
missed  on  entering :  the  Seraglio  Point  where  blind  old  Dandolo 
ran  his  galley  aground  and  leaped  on  shore  to  the  assault ;  the 
shore  of  Chalcedon ;  the  seven  towers  and  the  old  wall  behind 
Stamboul,  which  Persians,  Arabs,  Scythians,  and  Latins  have 
stonned ;  the  long  sweeping  coast  and  its  minarets ;  the  Princes' 
Islands  and  Mt.  Olympus,  —  all  this  in  a  setting  sun  was  superb  ; 
and  we  said,  "There  is  not  its  equal  in  the  world."  And  the 
evening  was  more  magnificent,  —  a  moon  nearly  full,  a  sweet  and 
rosy  light  on  the  smooth  water,  which  was  at  first  azure  blue,  and 
then  pearly  gray  and  glowing  like  an  amethyst. 

Smoothly  sailing  all  night,  we  came  at  sunrise  to  the  entrance 
of  the  Dardanelles,  and  stopped  for  a  couple  of  hours  at  Chanak 
Kalessi,  before  the  guns  of  the  Castle  of  Asia.  The  wide-awake 
traders  immediately  swarmed  on  board  with  their  barbarous  pot- 
teiy,  and  with  trays  of  cooked  fish,  onions,  and  bread  for  the  deck 
passengers.  The  latter  wei'e  mostly  Greeks,  and  men  in  the  cos- 
tume which  one  sees  still  in  the  islands  and  the  Asiatic  coasts, 
but  very  seldom  on  the  Grecian  mainland ;  it  consists  of  baggy 
trousers,  close  at  the  ankles,  a  shawl  about  the  waist,  an  em- 
broidered jacket  usually  of  sober  color,  and,  the  most  prized  part 
of  their  possessions,  an  arsenal  of  pistols  and  knives  in  huge 
leathern  holsters,  with  a  heav-y  leathern  flap,  worn  in  front.  Most 
of  them  wore  a  small  red  fez,  the  hair  cut  close  in  front  and  fall- 
ing long  behind  the  ears.  They  are  light  in  complexion,  not  tall, 
rather  stout,  and  without  beauty.  Though  their  dress  is  pic- 
turesque in  plan,  it  is  usually  very  dirty,  ragged,  and,  the  last  con- 
fession of  poverty,  patched.     They  were  all  armed  like  pirates; 


THE   WOMEN   OF  LEMNOS.  325 

and  when  we  stopped  a  cracking  fusillade  along  the  deck  sug- 
gested a  mutiny ;  but  it  was  only  a  precautionary  measure  of  the 
captain,  who  compelled  them  to  discharge  their  pistols  into  the 
water  and  then  took  them  from  them. 

Passing  out  of  the  strait  we  saw  the  Rabbit  Islands  and  Tene- 
dos,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Plain  of  Troy  about  as  misty 
as  its  mythic  histoiy  ;  and  then  turned  west  between  Imbros  and 
Lemnos,  on  whose  bold  eastern  rock  once  blazed  one  of  the  signal- 
fires  which  telegraphed  the  fall  of  Troy  to  Clytemnestra.  The 
first  women  of  Lemnos  were  altogether  beautiful,  but  they  had 
some  peculiarities  which  did  not  recommend  them  to  their  con- 
temporaries, and  indeed  their  husbands  were  accustomed  occa- 
sionally to  hoist  sail  and  bask  in  the  smiles  of  the  damsels  of  the 
Thracian  coast.  The  Lemnian  women,  to  avoid  any  legal  diffi- 
culties, such  as  arise  nowadays  when  a  woman  asserts  her  right 
to  slay  her  partner,  killed  all  their  husbands,  and  set  up  an  Am- 
azonian state  which  they  maintained  with  pride  and  splendor, 
permitting  no  man  to  set  foot  on  the  island.  In  time  this  abso- 
lute freedom  became  a  little  tedious,  and  when  the  Argonauts 
came  that  way,  the  women  advanced  to  meet  the  heroes  with 
garlands,  and  brought  them  wine  and  food.  This  conduct  pleased 
the  Argonauts,  who  made  Lemnos  their  headquarters  and  cele- 
brated there  many  a  festive  combat.  Their  descendants,  the 
Minyse,  were  afterwards  overcome  by  the  Pelasgians,  from  Attica, 
who,  remembering  with  regret  the  beautiful  girls  of  their  home, 
returned  and  brought  back  with  them  the  willing  and  the  lovely. 
But  the  children  of  the  Attic  women  took  on  airs  over  their 
superior  birth,  which  the  Pelasgian  women  resented,  and  the 
latter  finally  removed  all  cause  of  dispute  by  murdering  all  the 
mothers  of  Attica  and  their  offspring.  These  events  gave  the 
ladies  of  Lemnos  a  formidable  reputation  in  the  ancient  world, 
and  furnish  an  illustration  of  what  society  would  be  without 
the  refining  and  temperate  influence  of  man. 

To  the  northward  lifted  itself  the  bare  back  of  Samothrace,  and 
beyond  the  dim  outline  of  Thasos,  ancient  gold-island,  the  home 
of  the  poet  Archilochus,  one  of  the  few  Grecian  islands  which 
stiU  retains   something  of  its  pristine  luxuriance  of  vegetation, 


326  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

where  the  songs  of  innumerable  nightingales  invite  to  its  deep, 
flowery  valleys.  Beyond  Thasos  is  the  Thracian  coast  and  Mt. 
Pangaus,  and  at  the  foot  of  it  Philippi,  the  Macedonian  town 
where  republican  Rome  fought  its  last  battle,  where  Cassius 
leaned  upon  his  sword-point,  believing  everything  lost.  Brutus 
transported  the  body  of  his  comrade  to  Thasos  and  raised  for  him 
a  funeral  pyre;  and  twenty  days  later,  on  the  same  field,  met 
again  that  spectre  of  death  which  had  summoned  him  to  Philippi. 
It  was  01  dy  eleven  years  after  this  victory  of  the  Imperial  power 
that  a  greater  triumph  was  won  at  Philippi,  when  Paul  and  Silas, 
cast  into  prison,  sang  praises  unto  God  at  midnight,  and  an 
earthquake  shook  the  house  and  opened  the  prison  doors. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  in  sight  of  snowy  Mt.  Athos,  an 
almost  perpendicular  limestone  rock,  rising  nearly  six  thousand 
four  hundred  feet  out  of  the  sea.  The  slender  pi'omontory  which 
this  magnificent  mountain  terminates  is  forty  miles  long  and  has 
only  an  average  breadth  of  four  miles.  The  ancient  canal  of 
Xerxes  quite  severed  it  from  the  mainland.  The  peninsula,  level 
at  the  canal,  is  a  jagged  stretch  of  mountains  (seamed  by  chasms), 
which  rise  a  thousand,  two  thousand,  four  thousand  feet,  and  at 
last  front  the  sea  with  the  sublime  peak  of  Athos,  the  site  of  the 
most  conspicuous  beacon-fire  of  Agamemnon.  The  entire  prom- 
ontory is,  and  has  been  since  the  time  of  Constantine,  ecclesiastic 
ground ;  every  mountain  and  valley  has  its  convent ;  besides  the 
twenty  great  monasteries  are  many  pious  retreats.  All  the  sects 
of  the  Greek  church  are  here  represented ;  the  communities  pay  a 
tribute  to  the  Sultan,  but  the  government  is  in  the  hands  of  four 
presidents,  chosen  by  the  synod,  which  holds  weekly  sessions  and 
takes  the  pi'esidents,  yearly,  from  the  monasteries  in  rotation. 
Since  their  foundation  these  religious  houses  have  maintained 
against  Christians  and  Saracens  an  almost  complete  independence, 
and  preserved  in  their  primitive  simplicity  the  manners  and  usages 
of  the  earliest  foundations.  Here,  as  nowhere  else  in  Europe  or 
Asia,  can  one  behold  the  architecture,  the  dress,  the  habits  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  good  devotees  have  been  able  to  keep  them- 
selves thus  in  the  darkness  and  simplicity  of  the  past  by  a  rigor- 
ous exclusion  of  the  sex  always  impatient  of  monotony,  to  which 


SACRED  FROM  WOMEN.  327 

all  the  changes  of  the  world  are  due.  No  woman,  from  the  be- 
ginning till  now,  has  ever  been  permitted  to  set  foot  on  the 
peninsula.  Nor  is  this  all ;  no  female  animal  is  suffered  on  the 
holy  mountain,  not  even  a  hen.  I  suppose,  though  I  do  not 
know,  that  the  monks  have  an  inspector  of  eggs,  whose  inherited 
instincts  of  aversion  to  the  feminine  gender  enable  him  to  detect 
and  reject  all  those  in  which  lurk  the  dangerous  sex.  Few  of 
the  monks  eat  meat,  half  the  days  of  the  year  are  fast  days,  they 
practise  occasionally  abstinence  from  food  for  two  or  three  days, 
reducing  their  pulses  to  the  feeblest  beating,  and  subduing  their 
bodies  to  a  point  that  destroys  their  value  even  as  spiritual  taber- 
nacles. The  united  community  is  permitted  to  keep  a  guard  of 
fifty  Christian  soldiers,  and  the  only  Moslem  on  the  island  is  the 
solitary  Turkish  officer  who  represents  the  Sultan ;  his  position 
cannot  be  one  generally  coveted  by  the  Turks,  since  the  society 
of  women  is  absolutely  denied  him.  The  libraries  of  Mt.  Athos 
are  full  of  unarranged  manuscripts,  which  are  probably  mainly 
filled  with  the  theologic  rubbish  of  the  controversial  ages,  and 
can  scarcely  be  expected  to  yield  again  anything  so  valuable  as 
the  Tischendorf  Scriptures. 

At  sunset  we  were  close  under  Mt.  Athos,  and  could  distin- 
guish the  buildings  of  the  Laura  Convent,  amid  the  Avoods  beneath 
the  frowning  cliff.  And  now  was  produced  the  apparition  of  a 
sunset,  with  this  towering  mountain  cone  for  a  centre-piece,  that 
surpassed  all  our  experience  and  imagination.  The  sea  was  like 
satin  for  smoothness,  absolutely  waveless,  and  shone  with  the 
colors  of  changeable  silk,  blue,  green,  pink,  and  amethyst.  Heavy 
clouds  gathered  about  the  sun,  and  from  behind  them  he  exhib- 
ited burning  spectacles,  magnificent  fireworks,  vast  shadow-pic- 
tures, scarlet  cities,  and  gigantic  figures  stalking  across  the  sky. 
From  one  crater  of  embers  he  shot  up  a  fan-like  flame  that  spread 
to  the  zenith  and  was  reflected  on  the  water.  His  rays  lay  along 
the  sea  in  pink,  and  the  water  had  the  sheen  of  iridescent  glass. 
The  whole  sea  for  leagues  was  like  this  ;  even  Lemnos  and  Samo- 
thrace  lay  in  a  dim  pink  and  purple  light  in  the  east.  There 
were  vast  clouds  in  huge  walls,  with  towers  and  battlements,  and 
in  all  fantastic  shapes,  —  one  a  gigantic  cat  with  a  preternatural 


328  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

tail,  a  cat  of  doom  four  degrees  long.  All  this  was  piled  about 
Mt.  Athos,  with  its  sharp  summit  of  snow,  its  dark  sides  of 
rock. 

It  is  a  pity  that  the  sounding  and  somewhat  sacred  name  of 
Thessalonica  has  been  abbreviated  to  Salonica ;  it  might  better 
have  reverted  to  its  ancient  name  of  Therma,  which  distin- 
guished the  Macedonian  capital  up  to  the  time  of  Alexander.  In 
the  early  morning  we  were  lying  before  the  city,  and  were  told 
that  we  should  stay  till  midnight,  waiting  for  the  mail.  From 
whence  a  mail  was  expected  I  do  not  know  ;  the  traveller  who 
sails  these  seas  with  a  cargo  of  ancient  history  resents  in  these 
classic  localities  such  attempts  to  imitate  modern  fashions.  Were 
the  Dardanians  or  the  Mesians  to  send  us  letters  in  a  leathern 
bag  ?  We  were  prepared  for  a  summons  from  Calo-John,  at  the 
head  of  his  wild  barbarians,  to  surrender  the  city  ;  and  we  should 
have  liked  to  see  Boniface,  Marquis  of  Montferrat  and  King  of 
Thessalonica,  issue  from  the  fortress  above  the  town,  the  shields 
and  lances  of  his  little  band  of  knights  shining  in  the  sun,  and 
answer  in  person  the  insolent  demand.  We  were  prepared  to  see 
the  troop  return,  having  left  the  head  of  Boniface  in  the  possession 
of  Calo-John  ;  and  if  our  captain  had  told  us  that  the  steamer  would 
wait  to  attend  the  funeral  of  the  Bulgarian  chief  himself,  which 
occurred  not  long  after  the  encounter  with  Boniface,  we  should 
have  thought  it  natural. 

The  city  lies  on  a  fine  bay,  and  presents  an  attractive  appear- 
ance from  the  harbor,  rising  up  the  hill  in  the  form  of  an  amphi- 
theatre. On  all  sides,  except  the  sea,  ancient  walls  surround  it, 
fortified  at  the  angles  by  large  round  towers  and  crowned  in  the 
centre,  on  the  hill,  by  a  respectable  citadel.  I  suppose  that  por- 
tions of  these  walls  are  of  Hellenic  and  perhaps  Pelasgic  date,  but 
the  most  are  probably  of  the  time  of  the  Latin  crusaders'  occupa- 
tion, patched  and  repaired  by  Saracens  and  Turks.  We  had  come 
to  Thessalonica  on  St.  Paul's  account,  not  expecting  to  see  much 
that  would  excite  us,  and  we  were  not  disappointed.  When  we 
went  ashore  we  found  ourselves  in  a  city  of  perhaps  sixty  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  commonplace  in  aspect,  although  its  bazaars  are 
well  filled  with  Eui-opean  goods,  and  a  fair  display  of  Oriental 


THESSALONICA.  329 

stuffs  and  antiquities,  and  animated  by  considerable  briskness  of 
trade.  I  presume  there  are  more  Jews  here  than  there  were  in 
Paul's  time,  but  Turks  and  Greeks,  in  nearly  equal  numbers,  form 
the  bulk  of  the  population. 

In  modem  Salonica  there  is  not  much  respect  for  pagan  an- 
tiquities, and  one  sees  only  the  usual  fragments  of  columns  and 
sculptures  worked  into  walls  or  incorporated  in  Christian  churches. 
But  those  curious  in  early  Byzantine  architecture  will  find  more 
to  interest  them  here  than  in  any  place  in  the  world  except  Con- 
stantinople. We  spent  the  day  wandering  about  the  city,  under 
the  guidance  of  a  young  Jew,  who  was  without  either  prejudices 
or  information.  On  our  way  to  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  we 
passed  through  the  quarter  of  the  Jews,  which  is  much  cleaner 
than  is  usual  with  them.  These  are  the  descendants  of  Spanish 
Jews,  who  were  expelled  by  Isabella,  and  they  stiU  retain,  in  a 
corrupt  form,  the  language  of  Spain.  In  the  doors  and  windows 
were  many  pretty  Jewesses  ;  banishment  and  vicissitude  appear  to 
agree  with  this  elastic  race,  for  in  all  the  countries  of  Europe 
Jewish  women  develop  more  beauty  in  form  and  feature  than  in 
Palestine.  We  saw  here  and  in  other  parts  of  the  city  a  novel 
head-dress,  which  may  commend  itself  to  America  in  the  revo- 
lutions of  fashion.  A  great  mass  of  hair,  real  or  assumed,  was 
gathered  into  a  long  slender  green  bag,  which  hung  down  the 
back  and  was  terminated  by  a  heavy  fringe  of  silver.  Otherwise, 
the  dress  of  the  Jewish  women  does  not  differ  much  from  that  of 
the  men  ;  the  latter  wear  a  fez  or  turban,  and  a  tunic  which  reaches 
to  the  ankles,  and  is  bound  about  the  waist  by  a  gay  sash  or 
shawl. 

The  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  once  a  church,  and  copied  in  its 
proportions  and  style  from  its  namesake  in  Constantinople,  is  re- 
tired, in  a  delightfid  court,  shaded  by  gigantic  trees  and  cheered 
by  a  fountain.  So  peaceful  a  spot  we  had  not  seen  in  many  a 
day  ;  birds  sang  in  the  trees  without  disturbing  the  calm  of  the 
meditative  pilgrim.  In  the  portico  and  also  in  the  interior  are 
noble  columns  of  marble  and  verd-antique,  and  in  the  dome  is  a 
wonderfully  quaint  mosaic  of  the  Transfiguration.  We  were  shown 
also  a  magnificent  pulpit  of  the  latter  beautiful  stone  cut  from  a 


330  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

solid  block,  in  which  it  is  said  St.  Paid  preached.  As  the  Apostle, 
according  to  his  custom,  reasoned  with  the  people  out  of  the  Scrip- 
tures in  a  synagogue,  and  this  church  was  not  built  for  centuries 
after  his  visit,  the  statement  needs  confirmation ;  but  pious  in- 
genuity suggests  that  the  pulpit  stood  in  a  subterranean  church 
underneath  this.  I  should  like  to  believe  that  Paid  sanctified  this 
very  spot  wdth  his  presence ;  but  there  is  little  in  its  quiet  seclu- 
sion to  remind  one  of  him  who  had  the  reputation  when  he  was  in 
Thessalonica  of  one  of  those  who  tura  the  world  upside  down. 
Paul  had  a  great  affection  for  the  brethren  of  this  city,  in  spite  of 
his  rough  usage  here,  for  he  mingles  few  reproaches  in  his  fervent 
commendations  of  their  faith,  and  comforts  them  with  the  assur- 
ance of  a  speedy  release  from  the  troubles  of  this  world,  and  the 
certainty  that  while  they  are  yet  alive  they  will  be  caught  up  into 
the  clouds  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air.  Happily  the  Apostle  could 
not  pierce  the  future  and  see  the  dissensions,  the  schisms,  the  cor- 
ruptions and  calamities  of  the  Church  in  the  succeeding  centuries, 
nor  know  that  near  this  spot,  in  the  Imperial  Hippodrome,  the  se- 
dition of  the  citizens  would  one  day  be  punished  by  the  massacre 
of  ninety  thousand,  —  one  of  the  few  acts  of  inhumanity  which 
stains  the  clemency  and  the  great  name  of  Theodosius.  And  it 
would  have  passed  even  the  belief  of  the  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles 
could  he  have  foreseen  that,  in  eighteen  centuries,  this  pulpit 
would  be  exhibited  to  curious  strangers  from  a  distant  part  of  the 
globe,  of  which  he  never  heard,  where  the  doctrines  of  Paid  are 
the  bulwark  of  the  Church  and  the  stamina  of  the  government,  by 
a  descendant  of  Abraham  who  confessed  that  he  did  not  know 
who  Paul  was. 

Tlie  oldest  church  in  the  city  is  now  the  Mosque  of  St.  George, 
built  about  the^year  400,  if  indeed  it  was  not  transformed  from  a 
heathen  temple ;  its  form  is  that  of  the  Roman  Pantheon.  The 
dome  was  once  covered  with  splendid  mosaics ;  enough  remains 
of  the  architectural  designs,  the  brilliant  peacocks  and  bright  blue 
birds,  to  show  what  the  ancient  beauty  was,  but  the  walls  of  the 
mosque  are  white  and  barn-like.  Religions  inherit  each  other's 
edifices  in  the  East  without  shame,  and  we  found  in  the  Mosque 
of  Eske  Djuma  the  remains  of  a  temple  of  Venus,  and  columns  of 


THE  ANCIENT  CHURCHES.  331 

ancient  Grecian  work  worthy  of  the  best  days  of  Athens.  The 
most  perfect  basilica  is  now  the  Mosque  of  St.  Demetrius  (a  name 
sacred  to  the  Gi-reeks),  which  contains  his  tomb.  It  is  a  five-aisled 
basilica ;  about  the  gallery,  over  the  pillars  of  the  centre  aisle,  are 
some  fine  mosaics  of  marble,  beautiful  in  design  and  color.  The 
Moslems  have  spoiled  the  exquisite  capitals  of  the  pillars  by  paint- 
ing them,  and  have  destroyed  the  effect  of  the  aisles  by  twisting 
the  pulpit  and  prayer-niche  away  from  the  apse,  in  the  direction 
of  Mecca.  We  noticed,  however,  a  relaxation  of  bigotry  at  all 
these  mosques  :  we  were  permitted  to  enter  without  taking  off"  our 
shoes  ;  and,  besides  the  figures  of  Christian  art  left  in  the  mo- 
saics, we  saw  some  Moslem  pictures,  among  them  rude  paintings 
of  the  holy  city  Mecca. 

On  our  way  to  the  citadel  we  stopped  to  look  at  the  Arch  of 
Constantine  before  the  Gate  of  Cassander,  —  a  shabby  ruin,  with 
four  courses  of  defaced  figures,  carved  in  marble,  and  represent- 
ing the  battles  and  triumphs  of  a  Eoman  general.  Fortunately 
for  the  reader  we  did  not  visit  all  the  thirty-seven  churches  of  the 
city ;  but  we  made  the  acquaintance  in  a  Greek  church,  which  is 
adorned  with  quaint  Byzantine  paintings,  of  St.  Palema,  who  lies 
in  public  repose,  in  a  coffin  of  exquisite  silver  filigree-work,  while 
his  skidl  is  enclosed  in  solid  silver  and  set  with  rubies  and  em- 
eralds. This  may  please  St.  Palema,  but  death  is  never  so  ghastly 
as  when  it  is  adorned  with  jewelry  that  becomes  cheap  in  its 
presence. 

The  view  from  the  citadel,  which  embraces  the  Gulf  of  Salo- 
nica  and  Mt.  Olympus,  the  veritable  heaven  of  the  Grecian 
pantheon,  and  Mt.  Ossa  and  Mt.  Pelion,  piercing  the  blue  with 
their  snow-summits,  is  grand  enough  to  repay  the  ascent;  and 
there  is  a  noble  walk  along  the  wall  above  the  town.  In  mak- 
ing my  roundabout  way  through  modem  streets,  back  to  the 
bazaars,  I  encountered  a  number  of  negro  women,  pure  Africans, 
who  had  the  air  and  carnage  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  place ; 
they  rejoiced  in  the  gay  attire  which  the  natives  of  the  South 
love,  and  their  fine  figures  and  independent  bearing  did  not  speak 
of  servitude. 

This  Thessalonica  was  doubtless  a  healthful  and  attractive  place 


332  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

at  the  time  Cicero  chose  to  pass  a  portion  of  his  exile  here,  but  it 
has  now  a  bad  reputation  for  malaria,  which  extends  to  aU  the 
gulf,  —  the  malaria  seems  everywhere  to  have  been  one  of  the 
consequences  of  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  The  handbook 
recommends  the  locality  for  its  good  "  shooting  "  ;  but  if  there  is 
any  part  of  the  Old  World  that  needs  rest  from  arms,  I  think  it  is 
this  highway  of  ancient  and  modern  conquerors  and  invaders. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  lights  of  the  to\\'n  and  the  shore  were 
reflected  in  the  water,  and  a  full  moon  hung  in  the  sky,  we  did 
not  regret  our  delay.  The  gay  Thessalonians,  ignorant  of  the 
Epistles,  were  rowing  about  the  harbor,  circling  round  and  round 
the  steamer,  beating  the  darabouka  dmm,  and  singing  in  that 
nasal  whine  which  passes  for  music  all  over  the  East.  And,  in- 
deed, on  such  a  night  it  is  not  without  its  eflFect  upon  a  senti- 
mental mind. 

At  early  light  of  a  cloudless  morning  we  were  going  easily 
down  the  Gulf  of  Therma  or  Salonica,  having  upon  our  right  the 
Pierian  plain ;  and  I  tried  to  distinguish  the  two  mounds  which 
mark  the  place  of  the  great  battle  near  Pydna,  one  hundred  and 
sixty-eight  years  before  Christ,  between  .^milius  Paulus  and  King 
Perseus,  which  gave  Macedonia  to  the  Roman  Empire.  Beyond, 
almost  ten  thousand  feet  in  the  air,  towered  Olympus,  upon  whose 
"  broad  "  summit  Homer  displays  the  ethereal  palaces  and  inac- 
cessible abode  of  the  Grecian  gods.  Shaggy  forests  stdl  clothe 
its  sides,  but  snow  now,  and  for  the  greater  part  of  the  year, 
covers  the  wide  surface  of  the  height,  which  is  a  sterile,  light- 
colored  rock.  The  gods  did  not  want  snow  to  cool  the  nectar  at 
their  banquets.  This  is  the  very  centre  of  the  mythologic  world  ; 
there  between  Olympus  and  Ossa  is  the  Vale  of  Tempe,  where 
the  Peneus,  breaking  through  a  narrow  gorge  fringed  with  the 
sacred  laurel,  reaches  the  gulf,  south  of  ancient  Heracleum.  Into 
this  charming  but  secluded  retreat  the  gods  and  goddesses,  weary 
of  the  icy  air,  or  the  Pumblechookian  deportment  of  the  court 
of  Olympian  Jove,  descended  to  pass  the  sunny  hours  with  the 
youths  and  maidens  of  mortal  mould ;  tbvough  this  defile  marks 
of  chariot-wheels  still  attest  the  passages  of  armies  which  flowed 
either  way,  in  invasion  or  retreat ;  and  here  Pompey,  after  a  ride 


THE   GREEK   HEAVEN.  333 

of  forty  miles  from  the  fatal  field  of  Pharsalia,  quenched  his 
thirst.  Did  the  Greeks  really  believe  that  the  gods  dwelt  on  this 
moimtain  in  clouds  and  snow  ?  Did  Baldwin  II.  believe  that  he 
sold,  and  Louis  IX.  of  France  that  he  bought,  for  ten  thousand 
marks  of  silver,  at  Constantinople,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the 
veritable  crown  of  thorns  that  the  Saviour  wore  in  the  judgment- 
hall  of  PUate  ? 

At  six  o'clock  the  Cape  of  Posilio  was  on  oiu*  left,  we  were 
sinking  Olympus  in  the  white  haze  of  morning,  Ossa,  in  its  huge 
silver  bidk,  was  near  us,  and  Pelion  stretched  its  long  white  back 
below.  The  sharp  cone  of  Ossa  might  well  ride  upon  the  ex- 
tended back  of  Pelion,  and  it  seems  a  pity  that  the  Titans  did 
not  succeed  in  their  attempt.  We  were  leaving,  and  looking  our 
last  on  the  Thracian  coasts,  once  rimmed  from  Mt.  Athos  to 
the  Bosphorus  with  a  wreath  of  prosperous  cities.  What  must 
once  have  been  the  splendor  of  the  ^gean  Sea  and  its  islands, 
when  every  island  was  the  seat  of  a  vigorous  state,  and  every 
harbor  the  site  of  a  commercial  towm  which  sent  forth  adventurous 
galleys  upon  any  errand  of  trade  or  conquest !  Since  the  fall  of 
Constantinople,  these  coasts  and  islands  have  been  stripped  and 
neglected  by  Turkish  avarice  and  improvidence,  and  perhaps 
their  naked  aspect  is  attributable  more  to  the  last  owners  than  to 
all  the  preceding  possessors ;  it  remained  for  the  Turk  to  exhaust 
Nature  herself,  and  to  accomplish  that  ruin,  that  destruction  of 
peoples,  which  certainly  not  the  Athenian,  the  Eoman,  or  the 
Macedonian  accomplished,  to  destroy  that  which  survived  the 
contemptible  Byzantines  and  escaped  the  net  of  the  pdlaging 
Christian  crusaders.  Yet  it  needs  only  repose,  the  confidence  of 
the  protection  of  industry,  and  a  spirit  of  toleration,  which  the 
Greeks  must  learn  as  well  as  the  Turks,  that  the  traveller  in  the 
beginning  of  the  next  century  may  behold  in  the  Archipelago  the 
paradise  of  the  world. 

We  sailed  along  by  the  peninsula  of  Magnesia,  which  separates 
the  .^gean  from  the  Bay  of  Pagasseus,  and  hinders  us  from  see- 
ing the  plains  of  Thessaly,  where  were  trained  the  famous  cavalry, 
the  perfect  xmion  of  horse  and  man  that  gave  rise  to  the  fable  of 
centaurs ;  the  same  conception  of  double  prowess  which  oiir  own 


334  IN   TIffi   LEVANT. 

early  settlers  exaggerated  in  the  notion  that  the  Kentuckian  was 
haK  horse  and  half  alligator.  Just  before  we  entered  the  group 
of  lovely  Sporades,  we  looked  down  the  long  narrow  inlet  to  the 
Bay  of  Maliacus  and  saw  the  sharp  snow-peaks  of  Mt.  OEta,  at  the 
foot  of  which  are  the  marsh  and  hot  springs  of  Thermopylae. 
We  passed  between  Skiathos  and  Skopelos,  —  steep,  rocky  islands, 
well  wooded  and  enlivened  with  villages  perched  on  the  hillsides, 
and  both  draped  in  lovely  color.  In  the  strait  between  Skiathos 
and  Magnesia  the  Greek  vessels  made  a  stand  against  the  Per- 
sians until  the  defeat  at  Thermopylae  compelled  a  retreat  to 
Salamis.  The  monks  of  the  Middle  Ages,  who  had  an  eye  for  a 
fertile  land,  covered  the  little  island  with  monasteries,  of  which 
one  only  now  remains.  Its  few  inhabitants  are  chiefly  sailors, 
and  to-day  it  would  be  wbolly  without  fame  were  it  not  for  the 
beauty  of  its  women.  Skopelos,  which  is  larger,  has  a  popula- 
tion of  over  six  thousand,  —  industrious  people  who  cultivate  the 
olive  and  produce  a  good  red  wine,  that  they  export  in  their  own 
vessels. 

Nearly  aU  day  we  sailed  outside  and  along  Euboea ;  and  the 
snow  dusting  its  high  peaks  and  lonely  ravines  was  a  not  un- 
welcome sight,  for  the  day  was  warm,  oppressively  so  even  at 
sea.  All  the  elements  lay  in  a  languid  truce.  Before  it  was 
hidden  by  Skopelos,  Mt.  Athos  again  asserted  its  lordship  over 
these  seas,  more  gigantic  than  when  we  were  close  to  it,  the  sun 
striking  the  snow  on  its  face  (it  might  be  the  Whiteface  of 
the  Adirondacks,  except  that  it  is  piled  up  more  like  the  Matter- 
horn),  while  the  base,  bathed  in  a  silver  light,  was  indistinguish- 
able from  the  silver  water  out  of  which  it  rose.  The  islands 
were  all  purple,  the  shores  silver,  and  the  sea  around  us  deeply 
azure.     What  delicious  color ! 

Perhaps  it  was  better  to  coast  along  the  Euboean  land  and 
among  the  Sporades,  clothed  in  our  minds  with  the  historic  hues 
which  the  atmosphere  reproduced  to  our  senses,  than  to  break  the 
dream  by  landing,  to  find  only  broken  fragments  where  cities 
once  were,  and  a  handful  of  fishermen  or  shepherds  the  only 
inheritors  of  the  homes  of  heroes.  We  should  find  nothing  on 
Ikos,  except  rabbits  and  a  hundred  or  two  of  fishers,  perhaps  not 


THE   SPORADES  AND  EUBCEA.  •  335 

even  the  grave  of  Peleus,  the  father  of  Achilles ;  and  the  dozen 
little  rocky  islets  near,  which  some  giant  in  sportive  mood  may 
have  tossed  into  the  waves,  would  altogether  scarcely  keep  from 
famine  a  small  flock  of  industrious  sheep.  Skyros,  however,  has 
not  forgotten  its  ancient  fertility ;  the  well-watered  valleys,  over- 
looked by  bold  mountains  and  rocky  peaks  (upon  one  of  which 
stood  "the  lofty  Skyros"  of  Homer's  song)  still  bear  corn  and 
wine,  the  fig  and  the  olive,  the  orange  and  the  lemon,  as  in  the 
days  when  Achilles,  in  woman's  apparel,  was  hidden  among  the 
maidens  in  the  gardens  of  King  Lycomedes.  The  mountains  are 
clothed  with  oaks,  beeches,  firs,  and  plane-trees.  Athens  had  a 
peculiar  aifection  for  Skyros,  for  it  was  there  that  Cymon  found 
the  bones  of  Theseus,  and  transported  them  thence  to  the  temple 
of  the  hero,  where  they  were  deposited  with  splendid  obsequies, 
^schylus  and  Sophocles  adding  to  the  festivities  the  friendly 
rivalry  of  a  dramatic  contest.  In  those  days  everything  was  for 
the  state  and  nothing  for  the  man ;  and  naturally  —  such  is  the 
finiit  of  self-abnegation  —  the  state  was  made  immortal  by  the 
genius  of  its  men. 

Of  the  three  proud  flagstaffs  erected  in  front  of  St.  Mark's, 
one,  for  a  long  time,  bore  the  banner  of  Euboea,  or  Negropont, 
symbol  of  the  Venetian  sovereignty  for  nearly  three  centuries 
over  this  island,  which  for  four  centuries  thereafter  was  to  be 
cursed  by  the  ascendency  of  the  crescent.  Prom  the  outer  shore 
one  can  form  little  notion  of  the  extraordinary  fertility  of  this 
land,  and  we  almost  regretted  that  a  rough  sea  had  not  driven  us 
to  take  the  inner  passage,  by  Boeotia  and  through-  the  nan'ow 
Euripus,  where  the  Venetian-built  town  and  the  Lion  of  St.  Mark 
occupy  and  guard  the  site  of  ancient  Chalkis.  The  Turks  made 
the  name  of  Negropont  odious  to  the  world,  but  with  the  res- 
toration of  the  Grecian  nationality  the  ancient  name  is  restored, 
and  slowly,  Euboea,  spoiled  by  the  Persians,  trampled  by  Mace- 
donians and  Romans,  neglected  by  Justinian  (the  depopulator 
of  the  Eastern  Empire),  drained  by  the  Venetians,  blighted  by 
the  Osmanlis,  is  beginning  to  attract  the  attention  of  capital 
and  travel,  by  its  unequalled  fertility  and  its  almost  unequalled 
scenery. 


336  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

Komance,  mythology,  and  history  start  out  of  the  waves  on 
either  hand ;  at  twilight  we  were  entering  the  Cyclades,  and  be- 
ginning to  feel  the  yet  enduring  influence  of  a  superstition  which 
so  mingled  itself  with  the  supremest  art  and  culture,  that  after 
two  thousand  years  its  unreal  creations  are  nearly  as  mighty  as 
ever  in  the  realms  of  poetry  and  imagination.  These  islands  are 
still  under  the  spell  of  genius,  and  we  cannot,  if  we  would,  view 
them  except  through  the  medium  of  poetic  history.  I  suppose 
that  the  island  of  Andros,  which  is  cultivated  largely  by  xVlba- 
nians,  an  Illyrian  race,  having  nothing  in  common  with  the  ancient 
lonians,  would  little  interest  us ;  if  we  cared  to  taste  its  wine,  it 
would  be  because  it  was  once  famous  throughout  Greece,  and  if 
we  visited  the  ruins  of  its  chief  city,  it  would  be  to  recall  an  anec- 
dote of  Herodotus :  when  Themistocles  besieged  the  town  and  de- 
manded tribute,  because  the  Andrians  had  been  compelled  to  join 
the  fleet  of  Xerxes  at  Salamis,  and  threatened  them  with  the  two 
mighty  deities  of  Athens,  Persuasion  and  Necessity,  the  spirited 
islanders  replied  that  they  were  protected  by  two  churlish  gods. 
Poverty  and  Inability. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  at  night  when  we  sailed  between  Keos 
and  Helena,  the  latter  a  long  barren  strip  that  never  seems  to 
have  been  inhabited  at  all,  except  from  the  tradition  that  Helen 
once  landed  there ;  but  Keos  and  its  old  town  of  lulis  was  the 
home  of  legends  and  poets,  and  famous  for  its  code  of  laws,  one 
of  which  tended  to  banish  sickness  and  old  age  from  its  precincts, 
by  a  provision  that  every  man  above  sixty  should  end  his  life  by 
poison.  It*  ancient  people  had  a  reputation  for  purity  and  so- 
briety, which  was  probably  due  to  the  hegira  of  the  nymphs,  who 
were  frightened  away  to  the  mainland  by  a  roaring  lion.  The 
colossal  image  of  the  lion  is  still  to  be  seen  in  marble  near  the 
ruins  of  the  old  city.  The  island  of  the  Cyclades,  which  we  should 
have  liked  most  to  tread,  but  did  not  see,  is  Delos,  the  holy,  the 
religious  and  political  centre  of  the  Greek  confederation,  the 
birthplace  of  ApoUo  and  Artemis,  the  seat  of  the  oracle,  second 
only  to  that  of  Delphi,  the  diminutive  and  now  almost  deserted 
rock,  shaken  and  sunken  by  repeated  earthquakes,  once  crowned 
with  one  of  the  most  magnificent  temples  of  antiquity,  the  spot 


APPROACHING  THE   ACROPOLIS.  337 

« 
of  pilgrimage,  the  arena  of  games  and  mystic  dances  and  poetic 
contests,  and  of  the  joyous  and  solemn  festivities  of  the  Delian 
Apollo. 

We  were  too  late  to  see,  though  we  sat  long  on  deck  and 
watched  for  it  by  the  aid  of  a  full  moon,  the  white  Doric  columns 
of  the  temple  of  Minerva  on  Sunium,  which  are  visible  by  day- 
light a  long  distance  at  sea.  The  ancient  mariners,  who  came 
from  Delos  or  from  a  more  adventurous  voyage  into  the  ^gean, 
beheld  here,  at  the  portals  of  Attica,  the  temple  of  its  tutelary 
deity,  a  welcome  and  a  beacon  ;  and  as  they  shifted  their  sails  to 
round  the  cape,  they  might  have  seen  the  shining  helmet  of  the 
goddess  herself,  —  the  lofty  statue  of  Minerva  Promachus  on  the 
Acropolis. 


XXVIII. 

ATHENS. 


IN  the  thought  of  the  least  classical  reader,  Attica  occupies  a 
space  almost  as  large  as  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  hopes  that 
it  will  broaden  on  his  sight  as  it  does  in  his  imagination,  although 
he  knows  that  it  is  only  two  thirds  as  large  as  the  little  State  of 
Rhode  Island.  But  however  reason  may  modify  enthusiasm,  the 
diminutive  scale  on  which  everything  is  drawn  is  certain  to  dis- 
appoint the  first  view  of  the  reality.  Who,  he  asks,  has  made 
this  little  copy  of  the  great  Athenian  picture  ? 

When  we  came  upon  deck  early  in  the  morning,  the  steamer  lay 
in  the  land-locked  harbor  of  the  peninsula  of  Piraeus.  It  is  a 
round,  deep,  pretty  harbor ;  several  merchant  and  small  vessels 
lay  there,  a  Greek  and  an  Austrian  steamer,  and  a  war-vessel,  and 
the  scene  did  not  lack  a  look  of  prosperous  animation.  About  the 
port  clusters  a  weU-to-do  village  of  some  ten  thousand  inhabi- 
tants, many  of  whom  dwell  in  handsome  houses.  It  might  be  an 
American  town ;  it  is  too  new  to  be  European.  There,  at  the 
entrance  of  the  harbor,  on  a  low  projecting  rock,  are  some  ruins 
of  columns,  said  to  mark  the  tomb  of  Themistocles ;  sometimes 
the  water  nearly  covers  the  rock.  There  could  be  no  more  fitting 
resting-place  for  the  great  commander  than  this,  in  sight  of  the 
strait  of  Salamis,  and  washed  by  the  waves  that  tossed  the  broken 
and  Hying  fleet  of  Xerxes.  Beyond  is  the  Bay  of  Phalerum,  the 
more  ancient  seaport  of  the  little  state.  And  there  —  how  small 
it  seems  !  —  is  the  plain  of  Athens,  enclosed  by  Hymettus,  Pen- 
telicus,  and  Panies.  This  rocky  peninsula  of  Piraeus,  which 
embraced  three  small  harbors,  was  fortified  by  Themistocles  with 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  ACROPOLIS.  339 

strong  walls  that  extended,  in  parallel  lines,  five  miles  to  Athens, 
Between  them  ran  the  great  carriage-road,  and  I  suppose  the 
whole  distance  was  a  street  of  gardens  and  houses. 

A  grave  commissionnaire,  —  I  do  not  know  but  he  would  call 
himself  an  embassy, — from  one  of  the  hotels  of  Athens,  came  off 
and  quietly  took  charge  of  us.  On  our  way  to  the  shore  with  our 
luggage,  a  customs  officer  joined  us  and  took  a  seat  in  the  boat. 
For  this  polite  attention  on  the  part  of  the  government  our  pleni- 
potentiary sent  by  the  officer  (who  did  not  open  the  trunks)  three 
francs  to  the  treasury ;  but  I  do  not  know  if  it  ever  reached  its 
destination.  We  shunned  the  ignoble  opportunity  of  entering  the 
classic  city  by  rail,  and  were  soon  whirling  along  the  level  and 
dusty  road  which  follows  the  course  of  the  ancient  Long  Wall. 
Even  at  this  early  hour  the  day  had  become  very  warm,  and  the 
shade  of  the  poplar-trees,  which  line  the  road  nearly  all  the  way, 
was  grateful.  The  fertile  fields  had  yet  the  freshness  of  spring, 
and  were  gay  with  scarlet  poppies ;  the  vines  were  thrifty.  The 
near  landscape  was  Italian  in  character :  there  Avas  little  peculiar 
in  the  costumes  of  the  people  whom  we  met  walking  beside  their 
market-wagons  or  saw  laboring  in  the  gardens ;  turbans,  fezes, 
flowing  garments  of  white  and  blue  and  yellow,  all  had  vanished, 
and  we  felt  that  we  were  out  of  the  Orient  and  about  to  enter  a 
modern  city.  At  a  half-way  inn,  where  we  stopped  to  water  the 
horses,  there  was  an  hostler  in  the  Albanian,  or  as  it  is  called,  the 
Grecian  national,  costume,  wearing  the  fiistanella  and  the  short 
jacket ;  but  the  stiff  white  petticoat  was  rumpled  and  soiled,  and 
I  fancied  he  was  somewhat  ashamed  of  the  half-womanly  attire, 
and  shrank  from  inspection,  like  an  actor  in  harlequin  dress,  sur- 
prised by  daylight  outside  the  theatre. 

This  sheepish  remnant  of  the  picturesque  could  not  preserve  for 
us  any  illusions ;  the  roses  blooming  by  the  wayside  we  knew ; 
the  birds  singing  in  the  fields  we  had  heard  befoi'e ;  the  commis- 
sionnaire persisted  in  pointing  out  the  evidences  of  improvement. 
But  we  burned  with  a  secret  fever ;  we  were  impatient  even  of 
the  gratefid  avenue  of  trees  that  hid  what  we  at  every  moment 
expected  to  see.  I  do  not  envy  him  who  without  agitation  ap- 
proaches for  the  first  time,  and  feels  that  he  is  about  to  look  upon 


340  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

the  Acropolis  !  There  are  three  supreme  sensations,  not  twice  to 
be  experienced,  for  the  traveller :  when  he  is  about  to  liehold 
the  ancient  seats  of  art,  of  discipline,  of  religion,  —  Athens,  Eorae, 
Jerusalem.  But  it  is  not  possible  for  the  reality  to  equal  the  ex- 
pectation. "  There  !  "  cried  the  commissionnaire,  "  is  the  Acrop- 
olis !  "  A  small  oblong  hill  lifting  itself  some  three  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  above  the  city,  its  sides  upheld  by  walls,  its  top 
shining  with  marble,  an  isolated  fortress  in  appearance !  The 
bulk  of  the  city  lies  to  the  north  of  the  Acropolis,  and  grows 
round  to  the  east  of  it  along  the  valley  of  the  Dissus. 

In  five  minutes  more  we  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  tlie  new  exca- 
vations of  the  Keramicus,  the  ancient  cemeterj',  and  of  the  old 
walls  on  our  left,  and  were  driving  up  the  straight  broad  Hermes 
Street  towards  the  palace.  Midway  in  the  centre  of  the  street  is 
an  ancient  Byzantine  church,  which  we  pass  round.  Hermes 
Street  is  intersected  by  ..^olus  Street ;  these  two  cut  the  city  like 
a  Greek  cross,  and  all  other  streets  flow  into  them.  The  shops 
along  the  way  are  European,  the  people  in  the  streets  are  European 
in  dress,  the  cafe's,  the  tables  in  front  of  hotels  and  restaurants, 
with  their  groups  of  loungers,  suggest  Paris  by  reminding  one  of 
Brussels.  Athens,  built  of  white  stone,  not  yet  mellowed  by  age, 
is  new,  bright,  clean,  cheerful ;  the  broad  streets  are  in  the  unin- 
teresting style  of  the  new  part  of  Munich,  and  due  to  the  same 
Bavarian  influence.  If  Ludwig  I.  did  not  succeed  in  making 
Munich  look  like  Athens,  Otlio  was  more  fortunate  in  giving 
Athens  a  resemblance  to  Munich.  And  we  were  almost  ashamed 
to  confess  how  pleasant  it  appeared,  after  our  long  experience  of 
the  tumble-down  Orient. 

We  alighted  at  our  hotel  on  the  palace  place,  ascended  steps 
decked  with  flowering  plants,  and  entered  cool  apartments  looking 
upon  the  square,  which  is  sxirrounded  with  handsome  buildings, 
planted  with  native  and  exotic  trees,  and  laid  out  in  walks  and 
beds  of  flowers.  To  the  right  rises  the  plain  faqade  of  the  royal 
residence,  having  behind  it  a  magnificent  garden,  where  the  pine 
rustles  to  the  palm,  and  a  thousand  statues  revive  the  dead  my- 
thology ;  beyond  rises  the  singular  cone  of  Lycalwttus.  Com- 
mendable foresight  is  planting  the  principal  streets  with  trees,  the 


THE  EXPOSITION  OF  INDUSTRY.  341 

shade  of  which  is  much  needed  in  the  long,  dry,  and  parching 
summer. 

From  the  side  windows  we  looked  also  over  the  roofs  to  the 
Acropolis,  which  we  were  impatient  and  yet  feared  to  approach. 
For  myself,  I  felt  like  defemng  the  decisive  moment,  playing  with 
my  imagination,  lingering  about  among  things  I  did  not  greatly 
care  for,  whetting  impatience  and  desire  by  restraining  them,  and 
postponing  yet  a  little  the  realization  of  the  dream  of  so  many 
years, — to  stand  at  the  centre  of  the  world's  thought,  at  the 
spring  of  its  ideal  of  beauty.  While  my  companions  rested  from 
the  fatigue  of  our  sea  voyage,  I  went  into  the  street  and  walked 
southward  towards  the  Ilissus.  The  air  was  bright  and  sparkling, 
the  sky  deep  blue  like  that  of  Egypt,  the  hills  sharp  and  clear  in 
every  outline,  and  startlingly  near  ;  the  long  reach  of  Hymettus 
wears  ever  a  purple  robe,  which  nature  has  given  it  in  place  of 
its  pine  forests.  Travellers  from  Constantinople  complained  of 
the  heat :  but  I  found  it  inspiring  ;  the  air  had  no  languor  in  it ; 
this  was  the  very  joyous  Athens  I  had  hoped  to  see. 

When  you  take  up  the  favorite  imcut  periodical  of  the  month, 
you  like  to  skirmish  about  the  advertisements  and  tease  yourself 
with  dipping  in  here  and  there  before  you  plunge  into  the  serial 
novel.  It  was  absurd,  but  my  first  visit  in  Athens  was  to  the 
building  of  the  Quadrennial  Exposition  of  the  Industry  and  Art 
of  Greece,  —  a  long,  painted  wooden  structure,  decked  with  flags, 
and  called,  I  need  not  say,  the  Olympium.  To  enter  this  imita- 
tion of  a  country  fair  at  home,  was  the  rudest  shock  one  could 
give  to  the  sentiment  of  antiquity,  and  perhaps  a  dangerous  ex- 
periment, however  strong  in  the  mind  might  be  the  subtone  of 
Acropolis.  The  Greek  gentleman  who  accompanied  me  said  that 
the  exhibition  was  a  great  improvement  over  the  one  four  years 
before.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  very  hopeful  sign  of  the  prosperity  of 
the  new  state  ;  there  was  a  good  display  of  cereals  and  fruits,  of 
silk  and  of  jewelry,  and  various  work  in  gold  and  silver,  —  the 
latter  all  from  Corfu ;  but  from  the  specimens  of  the  fine  arts,  in 
painting  and  sculpture,  I  think  the  ancient  Greeks  have  not  much 
to  fear  or  to  hope  from  the  modern ;  and  the  books,  in  printing 
and  binding,  were  rude  enough.     But  the  specimens  from  the 


342  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

mines  and  quarries  of  Greece  could  not  be  excelled  elsewhere ; 
the  hundred  varieties  of  exquisite  marbles  detained  us  long  ;  there 
were  some  polished  blocks,  lovely  in  color,  and  you  might  almost 
say  in  design,  that  you  would  like  to  frame  and  hang  as  pic- 
tures on  the  wall.  Another  sign  of  the  decadence  of  the  national 
costume,  perhaps  more  significant  than  its  disappearance  in  the 
streets,  was  its  exhibition  here  upon  lay  figures.  I  saw  a  country- 
man who  wore  it  sneaking  round  one  of  these  figures,  and  regard- 
ing it  with  the  curiosity  of  a  savage  who  for  the  first  time  sees 
himself  in  a  mirror.  Since  the  revolution  the  Albanian  has  been 
adopted  as  the  Grecian  costume,  in  default  of  anything  more 
characteristic,  and  perhaps  because  it  would  puzzh;  one  to  say  of 
wluit  race  the  person  calling  himself  a  modern  Greek  is.  But  the 
ridicuious  fuslaneUa  is  nearly  discarded ;  it  is  both  inconvenient 
and  costly  ;  to  make  one  of  the  proper  fulness  requires  forty 
yards  of  cotton  cloth  ;  this  is  gathered  at  the  waist,  and  hangs  in 
broad  pleats  to  the  knees,  and  it  is  starclied  so  stiffly  that  it  stands 
out  like  a  half-open  Chinese  umbrella.  As  the  garment  cannot 
be  worn  when  it  is  the  least  soiled,  and  must  be  done  up  and 
starclied  two  or  three  times  a  week,  the  wearer  finds  it  an  ex- 
pensive habit ;  and  in  the  whole  outfit  —  the  jacket  and  sleeves 
may  be  a  reminiscence  of  defensive  armor  —  he  has  the  appear- 
ance of  a  landskiiecht  above  and  a  ballet-girl  below. 

Nearly  as  rare  in  the  streets  as  this  dress  are  the  drooping  red 
caps  with  tassels  of  blue.  The  women  of  Athens  whom  we 
saw  would  not  take  a  premium  anywhere  for  beauty ;  but  we 
noticed  here  and  there  one  who  wore  upon  her  dark  locks  the 
long  hanging  red  fez  and  gold  tassel,  who  might  have  attracted 
the  eye  of  a  roving  poet,  and  been  passed  down  to  the  next  age 
as  the  Maid  of  Athens.  The  Athenian  men  of  the  present  are  a 
fine  race  ;  we  were  constantly  surprised  by  noble  forms  and  intel- 
ligent faces.  That  they  are  Greek  in  feature  or  expression,  as  we 
know  the  Greek  from  coins  and  statuary,  we  could  not  say.  Per- 
haps it  was  only  the  ancient  Lacedemonian  rivalry  that  prompted 
the  remark  of  a  gentleman  in  Athens,  who  was  born  in  Sparta, 
that  there  is  not  a  drop  of  the  ancient  Athenian  blood  in  Athens. 
There  are  some  patrician  families  in  the  city  who  claim  this  hon- 


WHAT  IS  THE  GREEK?  343 

orable  descent,  but  it  is  probable  that  Athens  is  less  Greek  than 
any  other  town  in  the  kingdom ;  and  that  if  there  remain  any 
Hellenic  descendants  they  must  be  sought  in  remote  districts  of 
the  Morea.  If  we  trusted  ourselves  to  decide  by  types  of  face, 
we  should  say  that  the  present  inhabitants  of  Athens  were  of 
Northern  origin,  and  that  their  relation  to  the  Greeks  was  no 
stronger  than  that  of  Englishmen  to  the  ancient  Britons.  That 
the  people  who  now  inhabit  Attica  and  the  Peloponnesus  are 
descendants  of  the  Greeks  whom  the  Eomans  conquered,  I  sup- 
pose no  one  can  successfully  claim ;  that  they  are  all  fi-om  the 
Slavonians,  who  so  long  held  and  almost  exclusively  occupied  the 
Greek  mainland,  it  is  equally  difficult  to  prove.  All  we  know  is, 
that  the  Greek  language  has  survived  the  Byzantine  anarchy,  the 
Slavonic  conquest,  the  Frank  occupation ;  and  that  the  nimble 
wit,  the  acquisitiveness  and  inquisitiveness,  the  cunning  and  craft 
of  the  modern  Greek,  seem  to  be  the  perversion  of  the  nobler 
and  yet  not  altogether  dissimilar  qualities  which  made  the  ancient 
Greeks  the  leaders  of  the  human  race.  And  those  who  ascribe 
the  character  of  a  people  to  climate  and  geographical  position 
may  expect  to  see  the  mongrel  inheritors  of  the  ancient  soil 
moulded,  by  the  enduring  influences  of  nature,  into  homogeneity, 
and  reproduce  in  a  measure  a  copy  of  that  splendid  civilization 
of  whose  ruins  they  are  now  unappreciative  possessors. 

Beyond  the  temporary  Olympium,  the  eye  is  caught  by  the  Arch 
of  Hadrian,  and  fascinated  by  the  towering  Corinthian  columns  of 
the  Olympicum  or  Temple  of  Jupiter.  Against  the  background 
of  Hymettus  and  the  blue  sky  stood  fourteen  of  these  beautiful 
columns,  all  that  remain  of  the  original  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
four,  but  enough  to  give  us  an  impression  of  what  was  one  of  the 
most  stately  buildings  of  antiquity.  This  temple,  which  was  begun 
by  Pisistratus,  was  not  finished  till  Hadrian's  time,  or  until  the 
worship  of  Jupiter  had  become  cold  and  sceptical.  The  columns 
stand  upon  a  terrace  overlooking  the  bed  of  the  Ilissus  ;  there 
coff'ee  is  served,  and  there  we  more  than  once  sat  at  sundown,  and 
saw  the  vast  columns  turn  from  rose  to  gray  in  the  fading  light. 

Athens,  like  every  other  city  of  Europe  in  this  age  of  science 
and  Christianity,  was  full  of  soldiers ;  we  saw  squads  of  them 


344  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

drilling  here  and  there,  their  uniforms  sprinkled  the  streets  and 
the  cafes,  and  their  regimental  bands  enlivened  the  town.  The 
Greeks,  like  all  the  rest  of  us,  are  beating  their  pruning-hooks 
into  spears  and  preparing  for  the  millennium.  If  there  was  not 
much  that  is  peculiar  to  interest  us  in  wandering  about  among 
the  shops,  and  the  so-called,  but  unroofed  and  not  real,  bazaars, 
there  was  much  to  astonish  us  in  the  size  and  growth  of  a  city  of 
over  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  in  forty  years,  from  the  heap  of 
ruins  and  ashes  which  the  Turks  left  it.  When  the  venerable 
American  missionaries,  Dr.  Hill  and  his  wife,  came  to  the  city, 
they  were  obliged  to  find  shelter  in  a  portion  of  a  ruined  tower, 
and  they  began  their  labors  literally  in  a  field  of  smoking  desola- 
tion. The  only  attractive  shops  are  those  of  the  antiquity  deal- 
ers, the  collectors  of  coins,  vases,  statuettes,  and  Jigurines.  Of 
course  the  extraordinary  demand  for  these  most  exquisite  memen- 
tos of  a  race  of  artists  has  created  a  host  of  imitations,  and  set 
an  extravagant  and  fictitious  price  upon  most  of  the  articles,  a 
price  which  the  professor  who  lets  you  have  a  specimen  as  a  favor, 
or  the  dealer  who  calmly  assumes  that  he  has  gathered  the  last 
relics  of  antiquity,  mentions  with  equal  equanimity.  I  looked  in 
the  face  of  a  handsome  graybeard,  who  asked  me  two  thousand 
francs  for  a  silver  coin,  which  he  said  was  a  Solon,  to  see  if  there 
was  any  guile  in  his  eye  ;  but  there  was  not.  I  cannot  but  hope 
that  this  race  which  has  learned  to  look  honest  will  some  time 
become  so. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  walked  around  the  south  side  of  the 
Acropolis,  past  the  ruins  of  theatres  that  strew  its  side,  and 
ascended  by  the  carriage-road  to  the  only  entrance,  at  the  south- 
west end  of  the  hill,  towards  the  Piraeus.  We  pass  through  a 
gate  pierced  in  the  side  wall,  and  come  to  the  front  of  the  Pro- 
pylcca,  the  noblest  gateway  ever  built.  At  the  risk  of  offending 
the  travelled,  I  shall  try  in  a  paragraph  to  put  the  untravelled 
reader  in  possession  of  the  main  features  of  this  glorious  spot. 

The  Acropolis  is  an  irregidar  oblong  hill,  the  somewhat  uneven 
summit  of  which  is  about  eleven  hundred  feet  long  by  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  broad  at  its  widest.  The  hill  is  steep  on  all 
sides,  and  its   final   spring   is  perpendicular  rock,  in  places  a 


I 


THE  PARTHENON.  345 

hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.  It  is  lowest  at  the  southwest  end, 
where  it  dips  down,  and,  by  a  rocky  neck,  joins  the  Ai-eopagus, 
or  Mars  Hill.  Across  this  end  is  built  the  Propylsea,  high  with 
reference  to  the  surrounding  country,  and  commanding  the  view, 
but  low  enough  not  to  hide  from  a  little  distance  the  buildings 
on  the  summit.  This  building,  which  is  of  the  Doric  order,  and 
of  pure  Pentelic  marble,  was  the  pride  of  the  Athenians.  Its 
entire  front  is  about  one  hundred  and  seventy  feet ;  this  includes 
the  central  portico  (pierced  with  five  entrances,  the  centre  one  for 
carriages)  and  the  forward  projecting  north  and  south  wings.  In 
the  north  wing  was  the  picture-gallery;  the  south  wing  was  never 
completed  to  correspond,  but  the  balance  is  preserved  by  the  little 
Temple  of  the  Wingless  Victory,  which  from  its  ruins  has  been 
restored  to  its  original  form  and  beauty.  The  Propylsea  is  ap- 
proached by  broad  flights  of  marble  steps,  which  were  defended 
by  fortifications  on  the  slope  of  the  hill.  The  distant  reader  may 
form  a  little  conception  of  the  original  splendor  of  this  gatewaj"" 
from  its  cost,  which  was  nearly  two  and  a  half  millions  of  dollars, 
and  by  remembering  that  it  was  built  under  the  direction  of 
Pericles  at  a  time  when  the  cost  of  a  building  represented  its  real 
value,  and  not  the  profits  of  city  oflficials  and  contractors. 

Passing  slowly  between  the  columns,  and  with  many  a  back- 
ward glance  over  the  historic  landscape,  lingering  yet  lest  we 
should  abruptly  break  the  spell,  we  came  into  the  area.  Straight 
before  us,  up  the  red  rock,  ran  the  carriage-road,  seamed  across 
with  chisel-marks  to  prevent  the  horses'  hoofs  from  slipping,  and 
worn  in  deep  ruts  by  heavy  chariot-wheels.  In  the  field  before 
us  a  mass  of  broken  marble ;  on  the  right  the  creamy  columns  of 
the  Parthenon  ;  on  the  left  the  irregular  but  beautiful  Ionic 
Erechtheum.  The  reader  sees  that  the  entrance  was  contrived  so 
that  the  beholder's  first  view  of  the  Parthenon  should  be  at  the 
angle  which  best  exhibits  its  exquisite  proportions. 

We  were  alone.  The  soldier  detailed  to  watch  that  w-e  did  not 
carry  ofF  any  of  the  columns  sat  down  upon  a  broken  fragment 
by  the  entrance,  and  let  us  wander  at  our  will.  I  am  not  sur& 
that  I  would,  if  I  could,  have  the  temples  restored.  There  is  an 
indescribable  pathos  in  these  fragments  of  columns  and  architraves 
15* 


346  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

and  walls,  in  these  broken  sculptures  and  marred  inscriptions, 
which  time  has  softened  to  the  loveliest  tints,  and  in  these  totter- 
ing buildings,  which  no  human  skill,  if  it  could  restore  the  pris- 
tine beauty,  coixld  reanimate  with  the  Greek  idealism. 

And  yet,  as  we  sat  upon  the  western  steps  of  the  temple  dedi- 
cated to  Pallas  Athene,  I  could  imagine  what  this  area  was,  say 
in  the  August  days  of  the  great  Panathenaic  festival,  when  the 
gorgeous  procession,  which  I  saw  filing  along  the  Via  Sacra,  re- 
turning from  Eleusis,  swept  up  these  broad  steps,  garlanded  with 
flowers  and  singing  the  hymn  to  the  protecting  goddess.  This 
platform  was  not  then  a  desolate  stone  heap,  but  peopled  with 
almost  living  statues  in  bronze  and  marble,  the  creations  of  the 
genius  of  Phidias,  of  Praxiteles,  of  Lycius,  of  Clecetas,  of  Myron  ; 
there,  between  the  two  great  temples,  but  overtopping  them  both, 
stood  the  bronze  figure  of  Minerva  Promachus,  cast  by  Phidias 
out  of  the  spoils  of  Marathon,  whose  glittering  helmet  and  spear- 
point  gladdened  the  returning  mariner  when  far  at  sea,  and  defied 
the  distant  Avatcher  on  the  Acropolis  of  Corinth.  First  in  the 
procession  come  the  sacrificial  oxen,  and  then  follow  in  order  a 
band  of  virgins,  the  quadriga,  each  drawn  by  four  noble  steeds,  the 
elite  of  the  Athenian  youth  on  horseback',  magistrates,  daughters 
of  noble  citizens  bearing  vases  and  patera?,  men  carrying  trays  of 
off'erings,  flute-players  and  the  chorus  singers.  They  pass  around 
to  the  entrance  of  the  Parthenon,  which  is  toward  the  east,  and 
those  who  are  permitted  enter  the  naos  and  come  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  gold-ivory  statue  of  Minerva.  The  undraped  portions 
of  this  statue  show  the  ivory ;  the  drapery  was  of  solid  gold, 
made  so  that  it  could  be  removed  in  time  of  danger  from  a  public 
enemy.  The  golden  plates  weighed  ten  thousand  pounds.  This 
work  of  Phidias,  since  it  was  celebrated  as  the  perfection  of  art 
by  the  best  judges  of  art,  must  have  been  as  exquisite  in  its 
details  as  it  was  harmonious  in  its  proportions ;  but  no  artist  of 
our  day  would  dare  to  attempt  to  construct  a  statue  in  that  man- 
ner. In  its  right,  outstretched  hand  it  held  a  statue  of  Victory, 
four  cubits  high;  and  although  it  was  erected  nearly  five  hundred 
years  before  the  Christian  era,  we  are  curious  to  notice  the  already 
decided  influence  of  Egyptian  ideas  in  the  figure  of  the  sphinx 
surmounting  the  helmet  of  the  goddess. 


HISTORY  IN  A  NUT-SHELL.  347 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  island  of  Salamis.  There  was 
a  rosy  glow  on  the  bay  of  Phalerum,  on  the  sea  to  the  south,  on 
the  side  of  Hymettus,  on  the  yellow  columns  of  the  Parthenon, 
on  the  Temple  of  the  Wingless  Victory,  and  on  the  faces  of  the  ever- 
youthful  Caryatides  in  the  portico  of  the  Erechtheum,  who  stand 
reverently  facing  the  Parthenon,  worshipping  now  only  the  vacant 
pedestal  of  Athene  the  Protector.  What  overpowering  associa- 
tions throng  the  mind  as  one  looks  off  upon  the  crooked  strait  of 
Salamis,  down  upon  the  bare  rock  of  the  Ai'eopagus ;  upon  the 
Pnyx  and  the  bema,  where  we  know  Demosthenes,  Solon,  Themis- 
tocles,  Pericles,  Aristides,  were  wont  to  address  the  populace 
who  crowded  up  from  this  valley,  the  Agora,  the  tumultuous  mar- 
ket-place, to  listen  ;  upon  the  Museum  Hill,  crowned  by  the 
monument  of  Philopappus,  pierced  by  grottos,  one  of  which  tradi- 
tion calls  the  prison  of  Socrates,  —  the  whole  history  of  Athens  is 
in  a  nutshell !  Yet  if  one  were  predetermined  to  despise  this  mite 
of  a  republic  in  the  compass  of  a  quart  measure,  he  could  not  do 
it  here.  A  little  of  Caesar's  dust  outweighs  the  world.  We  are 
not  imposed  upon  by  names.  It  was,  it  could  only  have  been, 
in  comparison  with  modern  naval  engagements,  a  petty  fight  in 
the  narrow  limits  of  that  strait,  and  yet  neither  the  Persian  sol- 
diers who  watched  it  from  the  Acropolis  and  in  terror  saw  the 
ships  of  Xerxes  flying  down  the  bay,  nor  the  Athenians,  who  had 
abandoned  their  citadel  and  trusted  their  all  to  the  "  wooden 
walls  "  of  their  ships,  could  have  imagined  that  the  result  was 
laden  with  such  consequences.  It  gives  us  pause  to  think  what 
course  all  subsequent  histoiy  would  have  taken,  what  woidd  be 
the  present  complexion  of  the  Christian  system  itself,  if  on  that 
day  Asiatic  barbarism  had  rendered  impossible  the  subsequent 
development  of  Grecian  art  and  philosophy. 

We  waited  on  the  Acropolis  for  the  night  and  the  starlight 
and  the  thousand  lights  in  the  city  spread  below,  but  we  did  not 
stay  for  the  slow  coming  of  the  midnight  moon  over  Hymettus. 

On  Sunday  morning  we  worshipped  with  the  Greeks  in  the 
beautiful  Russian  church ;  the  interior  is  small  but  rich,  and  is 
like  a  private  parlor;  there  are  no  seats,  and  the  worshippers 
stand  or  kneel,  while  gilded  and  painted  figures  of  saints  and 


348  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

angels  encompass  them.  The  ceremony  is  simple,  but  impressive. 
The  priests  are  in  gorgeous  robes  of  blue  and  silver;  choir-boys 
sing  soprano,  and  the  bass,  as  it  always  is  in  Russian  churches, 
is  magnificent.  A  lady,  tall,  elegant,  superb,  in  black  faced  and 
trimmed  with  a  stuff  of  gold,  sweeps  up  to  the  desks,  kisses  the 
books  and  the  crucifix,  and  then  stands  one  side  crossing  herself. 
We  are  most  of  us  mortal,  and  all,  however  rich  in  apparel,  poor 
sinners  one  day  in  the  week.  No  one  of  the  worshippers  carries  a 
prayer-book.  There  is  reading  behind  the  screen,  and  presently 
the  priests  bring  out  the  elements  of  communion  and  exhibit 
them,  the  one  caiTying  the  bread  in  a  silver  vessel  on  his  head, 
and  the  other  the  wine.  The  central  doors  are  then  closed  on 
the  mysterious  consecration.  At  the  end  of  the  service  the  holy 
elements  are  brought  out,  the  communicants  press  up,  kiss  the 
cross,  take  a  piece  of  bread,  and  then  turn  and  salute  their 
friends,  and  break  up  in  a  cheerful  clatter  of  talk.  In  contrast 
to  this,  we  attended  afterwards  the  little  meeting,  in  an  upper 
chamber,  of  the  Greek  converts  of  the  American  Mission,  and 
listened  to  a  sermon  in  Greek  which  inculcated  the  religion  of 
New  England,  —  a  gospel  which,  with  the  aid  of  schools,  makea 
slow  but  hopeful  progress  in  the  city  of  the  unknown  God. 

The  longer  one  remains  in  Athens  the  more  he  will  be  im- 
pressed with  two  things  :  the  one  is  the  peifection  of  the  old  art 
and  civilization,  and  what  must  have  been  the  vivacious,  joyous 
life  of  the  ancient  Athenians,  in  a  climate  so  vital,  when  this 
plain  was  a  garden,  and  these  beautiful  hills  were  clad  with 
forests,  and  the  whispers  of  the  pine  answered  the  murmurs  of 
the  sea;  the  other  is  the  revival  of  letters  and  architecture  and 
culture,  visible  from  day  to  day,  in  a  progress  as  astonishing  as 
can  be  seen  in  any  Occidental  city.  I  cannot  undertake  to  de- 
scribe, not  even  to  mention,  the  many  noble  buildings,  either 
built  or  in  construction,  from  the  quan'ies  of  Pentelicus,  —  the 
University,  the  Academy,  the  new  Olympium,  —  all  the  voluntary 
contributions  of  wealthy  Greeks,  most  of  them  merchants  in  foreign 
cities,  whose  highest  ambition  seems  to  be  to  restore  Athens  to 
something  of  its  former  splendor.  It  is  a  point  of  honor  with 
every  Greek,  in  whatever  foreign  city  he  may  live  and  die,  to  leave 


GREEK   PATRIOTISM.  349 

something  in  his  last  will  for  the  adornment  or  education  of  the 
city  of  his  patriotic  devotion.  In  this,  if  in  nothing  else,  they 
resemble  the  ancient  patriots  who  thought  no  sacrifice  too  costly 
for  the  republic.  Arnong  the  ruins  we  find  no  palaces,  no  sign 
that  the  richest  citizen  used  his  wealth  in  ostentatious  private 
mansions.  Although  some  of  the  Greek  merchants  now  build 
for  themselves  elegant  villas,  the  next  generation  will  see  the 
evidences  of  their  wealth  rather  in  the  public  buildings  they  have 
erected.  In  this  little  city  the  University  has  eighty  professors 
and  over  twelve  hundred  students,  gathered  from  all  parts  of 
Greece ;  there  are  in  the  city  forty  lady  teachers  with  eight  hun- 
dred female  pupils ;  and  besides  these  there  are  two  gymnasiums 
and  several  graded  schools.  Professors  and  teachers  are  well 
paid,  and  the  schools  are  free,  even  to  the  use  of  books.  The 
means  flow  from  the  same  liberality,  that  of  the  Greek  merchants, 
who  are  continually  leaving  money  for  new  educational  founda- 
tions. There  is  but  one  shadow  upon  this  hopeful  picture,  and 
that  is  the  bigotry  of  the  Greek  church,  to  which  the  government 
yields.  I  do  not  now  speak  of  the  former  persecutions  suffered 
by  the  Protestant  missionaries,  but  recently  the  schools  for  girls 
opened  by  Protestants,  and  which  have  been  of  the  highest  service 
in  the  education  of  women,  have  been  obliged  to  close  or  else 
"  conform "  to  the  Greek  religion  and  admit  priestly  teachers. 
At  the  time  of  our  visit,  one  of  the  best  of  them,  that  of  Miss 
Kyle  of  New  York,  was  only  tolerated  from  week  to  week  under 
perpetual  warnings,  and  liable  at  any  moment  to  be  suppressed 
by  the  police.  This  narrow  policy  is  a  disgrace  to  the  govern- 
ment, and  if  it  is  continued  must  incline  the  world  to  hope  that 
the  Greeks  vnR  never  displace  the  Moslems  in  Constantinople. 

In  the  front  of  the  University  stands  a  very  good  statue  of  the 
scholar-patriot  Korais,  and  in  the  library  we  saw  the  busts  of  other 
distinguished  natives  and  foreigners.  The  library,  which  is  every 
day  enriched  by  private  gifts,  boasts  already  over  one  hundred 
and  thirty  thousand  volumes.  As  we  walked  through  the  rooms, 
the  director  said  that  the  University  had  no  bust  of  an  American, 
though  it  had  often  been  promised  one.  I  suggested  one  of 
Lincoln.     No,  he  wanted  Washington ;  he  said  he  cared  to  have 


350  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

no  other.  I  did  not  tell  him  that  Washington  was  one  of  the 
heroes  of  our  mythic  period,  that  we  had  tilled  up  a  tolerably 
large  pantheon  since  then,  and  that  a  century  in  America  was  as 
good  as  a  thousand  years  in  Byzantium.  But  I  fell  into  some- 
thing of  a  historic  revery  over  the  apparent  fact  that  America 
is  as  yet  to  Greece  nothing  but  the  land  of  Washington,  and  I 
rather  liked  the  old-fashioned  notion,  and  felt  sure  that  there 
must  be  somewhere  in  the  United  States  an  antiquated  and  rich 
patriot  who  remembered  Washington  and  would  like  to  send  a 
marble  portrait  of  our  one  great  man  to  the  University  of  Athens. 


XXIX. 

ELEUSIS,  PLATO'S  ACADE]\IE,  ETC. 

THERE  was  a  nightingale  wlio  sang  and  sobbed  all  night  in 
the  garden  before  the  hotel,  and  only  ceased  her  plaintive 
reminiscence  of  Athenian  song  and  son'ow  with  the  red  dawn. 
But  this  is  a  sad  world  of  contrasts.  Called  upon  the  balcony  at 
midnight  by  her  wild  notes,  I  saw,  —  how  can  I  ever  say  it  ?  — 
upon  the  balcony  below,  a  white  figure  advance,  and  with  a  tragic 
movement  of  haste,  if  not  of  rage,  draw  his  garment  of  the  night 
over  his  head  and  shake  it  out  over  the  public  square  ;  and  I 
knew  —  for  the  kingdom  of  knowledge  comes  by  experience  as 
well  as  by  observation  —  that  the  lively  flea  was  as  wakeful  in 
Greece  as  the  nightingale. 

In  the  morning  the  north-wind  arose,  —  it  seems  to  blow  con- 
stantly from  Boeotia  at  this  time  of  the  year,  —  but  the  day  was 
bright  and  sparkling,  and  we  took  carnage  for  Eleusis.  It  might 
have  been  such  a  morning  —  for  the  ancient  Athenians  always 
anticipated  the  dawn  in  their  festivals  —  that  the  Panathenaic 
processions  moved  along  this  very  Via  Sacra  to  celebrate  the 
Mysteries  of  Ceres  at  Eleusis.  All  the  hills  stood  in  clear  out- 
line, —  long  Pentelicus  and  the  wavy  lines  of  Pames  and  Cory- 
daUus ;  we  drove  over  the  lovely  and  fertile  plain,  amid  the  olive- 
orchards  of  the  Kephissus,  and  up  the  stony  slope  to  the  naiTow- 
ing  Pass  of  Daphne,  a  defile  in  Mt.  j^galeos ;  but  we  sought  in 
vain  the  laurel  grove,  or  a  single  specimen  of  that  tree  whose 
twisted  trunk  and  outstretched  arms  express  the  struggle  of  van- 
ishing humanity.  Passing  on  our  right  the  Chapel  of  St.  Elias, 
on  a  commanding  eminence,  and  traversing  the  level  plateau  of 


352  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

the  rocky  gorge,  we  alighted  at  the  Monastery  of  Daphne,  whose 
half-ruined  cloister  and  chapel  occupy  the  site  of  a  temple  of 
Apollo.  We  sat  for  half  an  hour  in  its  quiet,  waEed  churchyard, 
carpeted  with  poppies  and  tender  flowers  of  spring,  amid  the  re- 
mains of  old  columns  and  fragments  of  white  marble,  sparkling 
amid  the  green  grass  and  blue  violets,  and  looked  upon  the  blue 
bay  of  Eleusis  and  Salamis,  and  the  heights  of  Megara  beyond. 
Surely  nature  has  a  tenderness  for  such  a  spot ;  and  I  fancied  tliat 
even  the  old  dame  who  unlocked  for  us  the  chapel  and  its  cheap 
treasures  showed  us  with  some  interest,  in  a  carving  here  and  a 
capital  there,  the  relics  of  a  former  religion,  and  perhaps  mingled 
with  her  adoration  of  the  Virgin  and  the  bambino  a  lurking  regard 
for  Venus  and  Apollo.  A  mile  beyond,  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky 
precipice,  are  pointed  out  the  foimdations  of  a  temple  of  Venus, 
where  the  handbook  assured  us  doves  had  been  found  carved  in 
white  marble ;  none  were  left,  however,  for  us,  and  we  contented 
ourselves  with  reading  on  the  rock  P/ille  Aphrodite,  and  making 
a  vain  effort  to  recall  life  to  this  sterile  region. 

Enchanting  was  the  view  as  we  drove  down  the  opening  pass 
to  the  bay,  which  spreads  out  a  broad  sheet,  completely  land- 
locked by  the  irregular  bulk  of  Salamis  Island.  When  we  emerged 
through  the  defile  we  turned  away  from  the  narrow  strait  where 
the  battle  was  fought,  and  from  the  "  rocky  brow  "  on  which 
Xerxes  sat,  a  crowned  spectator  of  his  ruin,  and  swept  around  the 
circular  shore,  past  the  Rhciti,  or  salt-springs,  —  clear,  greenish 
pools,  — and  over  the  level  Thriasian  Plain.  The  bay  of  Eleusis, 
guarded  by  the  lofty  amphitheatre  of  mountains,  the  curving 
sweep  of  i^galeos  and  Kithreron,  and  by  Salamis,  is  like  a  lovely 
lake,  and  if  anywhere  on  earth  there  could  be  peace,  you  would 
say  it  would  be  on  its  sunny  and  secluded  shores.  Salamis  ap- 
pears only  a  bare  and  rocky  island,  but  the  vine  still  flourishes  in 
the  scant  soil,  and  from  its  wild -flowers  the  descendants  of  the 
Attic  bees  make  honey  as  famous  as  that  of  two  thousand  years 
ago. 

Across  the  bay,  upon  a  jutting  rocky  point,  above  which  rises 
the  crown  of  its  Acropolis,  lies  the  straggling,  miserable  village 
of  Eleusis.     Our  first  note  of  approach  to  it  was  an  ancient  pare- 


THE   TEMPLE   OF   CERES.  353 

ment,  and  a  few  indistinguishable  fragments  of  walls  and  columns. 
In  a  shallow  stream  which  ran  over  the  stones  the  women  of  the 
town  were  washing  clothes  ;  and  throngs  of  girls  were  filling 
their  pails  of  brass  at  an  old  well,  as  of  old  at  the  same  place  did 
the  daughters  of  Keleos.  Shriller  tones  and  laughter  mingled 
with  their  incessant  chatter  as  we  approached,  and  we  thought,  — 
perhaps  it  was  imagination,  —  a  little  wild  defiance  and  dislike. 
I  had  noticed  already  in  Athens,  and  again  here,  the  extraordinary 
rapidity  with  which  the  Greeks  in  conversation  exchange  words ; 
I  think  they  are  the  fastest  talkers  in  the  world.  And  the  Greek 
has  a  hard,  sharp,  ringing,  metallic  sound  ;  it  is  staccato.  You 
can  see  how  easily  Aristophanes  imitated  the  brittle-brattle  of 
frogs.  I  have  heard  two  women  whose  rapid,  incessant  cackle 
sounded  exactly  like  the  conversation  of  hens.  The  sculptor  need 
not  go  further  than  these  nut-brown  maids  for  classic  forms  ;  the 
rounded  limbs,  the  generous  bust,  the  symmetrical  waist,  which 
fashion  has  not  made  an  hour-glass  to  mark  the  flight  of  time  and 
health.  The  mothers  of  heroes  were  of  this  mould  ;  although  I 
AviU  not  say  that  some  of  them  were  not  a  trifle  stout  for  grace, 
and  that  their  well-formed  faces  would  not  have  been  improved 
by  the  interior  light  of  a  little  culture.  Their  simple  dress  was  a 
white,  short  chemise,  that  left  the  legs  bare,  a  heavy  and  worked 
tunic,  like  that  worn  by  men,  and  a  colored  kerchief  tied  about 
the  head.  Many  of  the  men  of  the  village  wore  the  fustanella  and 
the  full  Albanian  costume. 

The  Temple  of  Ceres  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  hill ;  only  a  little 
portion  of  its  vast  extent  has  been  relieved  of  the  superincumbent, 
accumidated  soil,  and  in  fact  its  excavation  is  difficult,  because 
the  village  is  built  over  the  greater  part  of  it.  What  we  saw  was 
only  a  confused  heap  of  marble,  some  pieces  finely  carved,  arches, 
capitals,  and  shattered  columns.  The  Greek  government,  which 
is  earnestly  caring  for  the  remains  of  antiquity  and  diligently 
collecting  everything  for  the  National  Museum,  down  to  broken 
toes  and  fingers,  has  stationed  a  keeper  over  the  ruins  ;  and  he 
showed  us,  in  a  wooden  shanty,  the  interesting  fragments  of 
statues  which  had  been  found  in  the  excavation.  I  coveted  a 
little  hand,  plump,  with  tapering  fingers,  which  the  conservator 


354  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

permitted  us  to  hold,  —  a 'slight  but  a  most  suggestive  memento 
of  the  breeding  and  beauty  of  the  lad 3'^  who  was'  the  scidptor's 
model ;  and  it  did  not  so  much  seem  a  dead  hand  stretched  out 
to  us  from  the  past,  as  a  living  thing  which  returned  our  furtive 
pressure. 

We  climbed  up  the  hill  where  the  fortress  of  the  Acropolis 
stood,  and  where  there  is  now  a  little  chapel.  Every  Grecian  city 
seems  to  have  had  its  Acropolis,  the  first  nucleus  of  the  rude  tribe 
which  it  fortified  against  incursion,  and  the  subsequent  site  of 
temples  to  the  gods.  The  traveUer  will  find  these  steep  hills, 
rising  out  of  plains,  everywhere  from  Ephesus  to  Argos,  and  will 
almost  conclude  that  Nature  had  consciously  adapted  herself  to 
the  wants  of  the  aboriginal  occupants.  It  is  well  worth  ascend- 
ing this  summit  to  get  the  fine  view  of  plain  and  bay,  of  ]\It.  Ke- 
rata  and  its  double  peaks,  and  the  road  that  pierces  the  pass  of 
Kithseron,  and  leads  to  the  field  of  Plataea  and  the  remains  of 
Thebes. 

In  a  little  wine-shop,  near  the  ruins,  protected  from  the  wind 
and  the  importunate  swarms  of  children,  we  ate  our  lunch,  and 
tried  to  impress  ourselves  with  the  knowledge  that  ^schylus  was 
born  in  Eleusis ;  and  to  imagine  the  nature  of  the  Eleusinian 
mysteries,  the  concealed  representations  by  which  the  ancients 
attempted  to  symbolize,  in  the  myths  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine, 
the  primal  forces  of  nature,  perhaps  the  dim  suggestions  of  im- 
mortality, —  a  secret  not  to  be  shared  by  the  vidgar,  —  borrowed 
from  the  deep  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians. 

The  children  of  Eleusis  deserve  more  space  than  I  can  afford 
them,  since  they  devoted  their  entire  time  to  our  annoyance. 
They  are  handsome  rascals,  and  there  were  enough  of  them,  if 
they  had  been  sufficiently  clothed,  to  form  a  large  Sunday  school. 
"When  we  sat  down  in  the  ruins  and  tried  to  meditate  on  Ceres, 
they  swarmed  about  us,  capering  and  yelling  incessantly,  and 
when  1  made  a  charge  upon  them  they  scattered  over  the  rocks 
and  saluted  us  with  stones.  But  I  find  that  at  this  distance  I 
have  nothing  against  them ;  I  recall  only  their  beauty  and  vi- 
vacity, and  if  they  were  the  worst  children  that  ever  tormented 
travellers,  I  reflect,  yes,  but  they  were  Greeks,  and  the  gods  loved 


THE   GROVE   OF  ACADEME.  355 

their  grandmothers.  One  slender,  liquid-eyed,  slim-shanked  girl 
offered  me  a  silver  coin.  I  saw  that  it  was  a  beautiful  Athenian 
piece  of  the  time  of  Pericles,  and  after  some  bargaining  I  bought 
it  of  her  for  a  reasonable  price.  But  as  we  moved  away  to  our 
carriage,  I  was  followed  by  the  men  and  women  of  the  settlement, 
who  demanded  it  back.  They  looked  murder  and  talked  Greek. 
I  inquired  how  much  they  wanted.  Fifty  francs  !  But  that  is 
twice  as  much  as  it  is  worth  in  Athens ;  and  the  coin  was  sur- 
rendered. All  through  the  country,  the  peasants  have  a  most 
exaggerated  notion  of  the  value  of  anything  antique. 

"We  returned  through  the  pass  of  Daphne  and  by  the  site  of  the 
academic  grove  of  Plato,  though  olive-groves  and  gardens  of 
pomegranates  in  scarlet  bloom,  quinces,  roses,  and  jasmines,  the 
air  sweet  and  delightful.  Perhaps  nowhere  else  can  the  traveller 
so  enter  into  the  pure  spirit  of  Attic  thought  and  feeling  as  among 
these  scattered  remains  that  scholars  have  agreed  to  call  the  ruins 
of  Plato's  Academe.  We  turned  through  a  lane  into  the  garden 
of  a  farm-house,  watered  by  a  branch  rivulet  of  the  Kephissus. 
What  we  saw  was  not  much,  —  some  marble  columns  under  a  lovely 
cypress-grove,  some  fragments  of  antique  carving  built  into  a 
wall ;  but  we  saw  it  as  it  were  privately  and  with  a  feeling  of  the 
presence  of  the  mighty  shade.  And  then,  under  a  row  of  young 
plane-trees,  by  the  meagre  stream,  we  reclined  on  ripe  wheat- 
straw,  in  full  sight  of  the  Acropolis,  —  perhaps  the  most  poetic 
view  of  that  magnetic  hill.  So  Plato  saw  it  as  he  strolled  along 
this  bank  and  listened  to  the  wisdom  of  his  master,  Socrates,  or, 
pacing  the  colonnade  of  the  Academe,  meditated  the  republic. 
Here  indeed  Aristotle,  who  was  born  the  year  that  Plato  died, 
may  have  lain  and  woven  that  subtle  web  of  metaphysics  which 
no  subsequent  system  of  thought  or  religion  has  been  able  to  dis- 
regard. The  centuries-old  wind  blew  strong  and  fresh  through 
the  trees,  and  the  scent  of  flowers  and  odorous  shrubs,  the  mur- 
mur of  the  leaves,  the  unchanged  blue  vault  of  heaven,  the  near 
hill  of  the  sacred  Colonus,  celebrated  by  Sophocles  as  the  scene 
of  the  death  of  (Edipus,  all  conspired  to  flood  us  with  the  poetic 
past.  What  intimations  of  immortality  do  we  need,  since  the 
spell  of  genius  is  so  deathless  ? 


356  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

After  dinner  we  laboriously,  by  a  zigzag  path,  climbed  the 
sharp  cone  of  Lycabettus,  whose  six  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of 
height  commands  the  whole  region.  The  rock  summit  has  just 
room  enough  for  a  tiny  chapel,  called  of  St.  George,  and  a  nar- 
row platform  in  front,  where  we  sat  in  the  shelter  of  the  build- 
ing and  feasted  upon  the  prospect.  At  sunset  it  is  a  marvellous 
view,  —  all  Athens  and  its  plain,  the  bays,  Salamis  and  the 
strait  of  the  battle,  Acro-Corinth ;  Megara,  Hymettus,  Peuteli- 
cus,  Kithaeron. 

When,  in  descending,  we  had  nearly  reached  the  foot  on  the 
west  side,  we  heard  the  violent  ringing  of  a  bell  high  above  us, 
and,  turning  about,  saw  what  seemed  to  be  a  chapel  under  the 
northwest  edge  of  the  rock  upon  which  we  had  lately  stood. 
Bandits  in  laced  leggings  and  embroidered  jackets,  chattering  girls 
in  short  skirts  and  gay  kerchiefs,  were  descending  the  wandering 
path,  and  the  clamor  of  the  bell  piqued  our  curiosity  to  turn  and 
ascend.  When  we  reached  our  goal,  the  affair  seemed  to  be 
pretty  much  all  bell,  and  nobody  but  a  boy  in  the  lusty  exuber- 
ance of  youth  could  have  made  so  much  noise  by  the  swinging 
of  a  single  clapper.  In  a  niche  or  ratlier  cleft  in  the  rock  was  a 
pent-roofed  bell-tower,  and  a  boy,  whose  piety  seemed  inspired 
by  the  Devil,  was  hauling  the  rope  and  sending  the  sonorous  metal 
over  and  over  on  its  axis.  In  front  of  the  bell  is  a  narrow  ter- 
race, sufficient,  however,  to  support  three  fig-trees,  under  which 
were  tables  and  benches,  and  upon  the  low  terrace-wall  were 
planted  half  a  dozen  large  and  differently  colored  national  ban- 
ners. A  hole  in  the  rock  was  utilized  as  a  fireplace,  and  from  a 
pot  over  the  coals  came  the  fumes  of  coffee.  Upon  this  perch  of 
a  ten*ace  people  sat  sipping  coffee  and  looking  down  upon  the 
city,  whose  evening  lights  were  just  beginning  to  twinkle  here  and 
there.  Behind  the  belfry  is  a  chapel,  perhaps  ten  feet  by  twelve, 
partly  a  natural  grotto  and  partly  built  of  rough  stones  ;  it  was 
brilliantly  lighted  with  tapers,  and  hung  with  quaint  pictures. 
At  the  entrance,  which  is  a  door  cut  in  the  rock,  stood  a  Greek 
priest  and  an  official  in  uniform  selling  wax-tapers,  and  raking  in 
the  leptas  of  the  devout.  We  threw  down  some  coppers,  de- 
clined the  tapers,  and  walked  in.     The  adytum  of  the  priest  was 


A  CALL  TO  PRAYER.  —  PENTELICUS.       357 

wholly  in  the  solid  rock.  There  seemed  to  l)e  no  service ;  twt  the 
women  and  children  stood  and  crossed  themselves,  and  passion- 
ately kissed  the  poor  pictures  on  the  walls.  Yet  there  was  noth- 
ing exclusive  or  pharisaic  in  the  worshippers,  for  priest  and  people 
showed  us  friendly  faces,  and  cordially  returned  our  greetings. 
The  whole  rock  quivered  with  the  clang  of  the  bell,  for  the  boy 
at  the  rope  leaped  at  his  task,  and  with  ever-increasing  fury  sum- 
moned the  sinful  world  below  to  prayer.  Young  ladies  with  their 
gallants  came  and  went ;  and  whenever  there  was  any  slacking  of 
stragglers  up  the  hillside  the  bell  clamored  more  importunately. 

As  dusk  crept  on,  torches  were  set  along  the  wall  of  the  ter- 
race, and  as  we  went  down  the  hiU  they  shone  on  the  red  and 
blue  flags  and  the  white  belfry,  and  illuminated  the  black  mass  of 
overhanging  rock  with  a  red  glow.  There  is  time  for  religion  in 
out-of-the-way  places  here,  and  it  is  rendered  picturesque,  and 
even  easy  and  enjoyable,  by  the  aid  of  coff'ee  and  charming 
scenery.  When  we  reached  the  level  of  the  town,  the  lights  stiU 
glowed  high  up  in  the  recess  of  the  rocks,  girls  were  laughing 
and  chattering  as  they  stumbled  down  the  steep,  and  the  wild  bell 
still  rang.     How  easy  it  is  to  be  good  in  Greece  ! 

One  day  we  stole  a  march  on  Marathon,  and  shared  the  glory 
of  those  who  say  they  have  seen  it,  without  incurring  the  fatigue 
of  a  journey  there.  We  ascended  Mt.  Pentelicus.  Hymettus 
and  Pentelicus  are  about  the  same  height,  —  thirty-five  hundred 
feet,  —  but  the  latter,  ten  miles  to  the  northeast  of  Athens,  com- 
mands every  foot  of  the  Attic  territory ;  if  one  shoidd  sit  on  its 
summit  and  read  a  histoiy  of  the  little  state,  he  would  need  no 
map.  We  were  away  at  half  past  five  in  the  morning,  in  order 
to  anticipate  if  possible  the  rising  of  the  daily  wind.  As  we 
ascended,  we  had  on  our  left,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the 
vUlage  of  Kephisia,  now,  as  in  the  days  of  Herodes  Atticus,  the 
summer  resort  of  wealthy  Athenians,  who  find  in  its  fountains,  the 
sources  of  the  Kephissus,  and  in  its  groves  relief  from  the  heat 
and  glare  of  the  scorched  Athenian  plain.  Half-way  we  halted 
at  a  monastery,  left  our  carriage,  and  the  ladies  mounted  horses. 
There  is  a  handsome  church  here,  and  the  situation  is  picturesque 
and  commands  a  wide  view  of  the  plain  and  the  rugged  north 


358  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

slope  of  Hymettus,  but  I  could  not  learn  that  the  monastery  was 
in  an  active  state ;  it  is  only  a  hive  of  drones  which  consumes  the 
honey  produced  by  the  working-bees  from  the  wild  thyme  of  the 
neighboring  mountain.  The  place,  however,  is  a  great  resort  of 
parties  of  pleasure,  who  picnic  under  the  grove  of  magnificent 
forest-trees,  and  once  a  year  the  king  and  queen  come  hither  to 
see  the  youths  and  maidens  dance  on  the  greensward. 

Up  to  the  highest  quarries  the  road  is  steep,  and  strewn  with 
broken  marble,  and  after  that  there  is  an  hour's  scramble  through 
bushes  and  over  a  rocky  path.  We  rested  in  a  large  grotto  near 
the  principal  of  the  ancient  quarries ;  it  was  the  sleeping-place 
of  the  workmen,  subsequently  a  Christian  church,  and  then,  and 
not  long  ago,  a  haunt  and  home  of  brigands.  Here  we  found  a 
party  of  four  fellows,  half  clad  in  sheep-skins,  playing  cards,  who 
seemed  to  be  waiting  our  arrival ;  but  they  were  entirely  civil, 
and  I  presume  were  only  shepherds,  whatever  they  may  have  been 
formerly.  From  these  quarries  was  hewn  the  marble  for  the 
Temple  of  Theseus,  the  Parthenon,  the  Propylaea,  the  theatres,  and 
other  public  buildings,  to  which  age  has  now  given  a  soft  and 
creamy  tone;  the  Pentelic  marble  must  have  been  too  brilliant 
for  the  eye,  and  its  dazzling  lustre  was  no  doubt  softened  by  the 
judicious  use  of  color.  Fragments  which  we  broke  off  had  the 
sparkle  and  crystalline  grain  of  loaf-sugar,  and  if  they  were  placed 
upon  the  table  one  would  unhesitatingly  take  them  to  sweeten  his 
tea.  The  whole  mountain-side  is  overgrown  with  laurel,  and 
we  found  wild-flowers  all  the  way  to  the  summit.  Amid  the 
rocks  of  the  higher  slopes,  little  shepherd-boys,  carrying  the  tra- 
ditional crooks,  were  guarding  flocks  of  black  and  white  goats, 
and,  invariably  as  we  passed,  these  animals  scampered  off  and 
perched  themselves  upon  sharp  rocks  in  a  photographic  pose. 

Early  as  we  were,  the  wind  had  risen  before  us,  and  when  we 
reached  the  bare  back  of  the  summit  it  blew  so  strongly  that  we 
could  with  difficulty  keep  our  feet,  and  gladly  took  refuge  in  a 
sort  of  stone  corral,  which  had  been  a  camp  and  lookout  of  brig- 
ands. From  this  commanding  point  they  spied  both  their  vic- 
tims and  pursuers.  Our  guide  went  into  the  details  of  the 
capture  of  the  party  of  Englishmen  who  spent  a  night  here,  and 


MARATHON.  359 

pointed  out  to  us  the  several  hiding-places  in  the  surrounding 
country  to  which  they  were  successively  dragged.  But  my  atten- 
tion was  not  upon  this  exploit.  "We  looked  almost  dii-ectly  down 
upon  Marathon.  There  is  the  bay  and  the  curving  sandy  shore 
where  the  Persian  galleys  landed ;  here  upon  a  spur,  jutting  out 
from  the  hiU,  the  Athenians  formed  before  they  encountered  the 
host  in  the  plain,  and  there  —  alas  !  it  was  hidden  by  a  hill  — 
is  the  mound  where  the  one  hundred  and  ninety-two  Athenian 
dead  are  buried.  It  is  only  a  small  field,  perhaps  six  miles  along 
the  shore  and  a  mile  and  a  half  deep,  and  there  is  a  considerable 
marsh  on  the  north  and  a  small  one  at  the  south  end.  The 
victory  at  so  little  cost,  of  ten  thousand  over  a  hundred  thou- 
sand, is  partially  explained  by  the  natiu-e  of  the  ground ;  the 
Persians  had  not  room  enough  to  manoeuvre,  and  must  have  been 
thrown  into  confusion  on  the  skirts  of  the  northern  swamp,  and 
if  over  six  thousand  of  them  were  slain,  they  must  have  been 
killed  on  the  shore  in  the  panic  of  their  embarkation.  But  still 
the  shore  is  broad,  level,  and  firm,  and  the  Greeks  must  have 
been  convinced  that  the  gods  themselves  terrified  the  hearts  of 
the  barbarians,  and  enabled  them  to  discomfit  a  host  which  had 
chosen  this  plain  as  the  most  feasible  in  aU  Attica  for  the  action 
of  cavalry. 

A  sea-haze  lay  upon  the  strait  of  Euripus  and  upon  Euboea, 
and  nearly  hid  from  our  sight  the  forms  of  the  Cyclades ;  but 
away  in  the  northwest  were  snow  peaks,  which  the  guide  said 
were  the  heights  of  Parnassus  above  Delphi.  In  the  world  there 
can  be  few  prospects  so  magnificent  as  this,  and  none  more  in- 
spiring to  the  imagination.  No  one  can  properly  appreciate  the 
Greek  literature  or  art  who  has  not  looked  upon  the  Greek  nature 
which  seems  to  have  inspired  both. 

Nothing  now  remains  of  the  monuments  and  temples  which 
the  pride  and  piety  of  the  Athenians  erected  upon  the  field  of 
Marathon.  The  visitor  at  the  Arsenal  of  Venice  remembers  the 
clumsy  lion  which  is  said  to  have  stood  on  this  plain,  and  in  the 
Temple  of  Theseus,  at  Athens,  he  may  see  a  slab  which  was  found 
in  this  meadow ;  on  it  is  cut  in  ver\'  low  relief  the  figure  of  a 
soldier,  but  if  the  work  is  Greek  the  style  of  treatment  is  Assyrian. 


360  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

The  Temple  of  Theseus,  which  occupies  an  elevation  above  the 
city  and  west  of  the  Areopagus,  is  the  best-preserved  monument 
of  Grecian  antiquity,  and  if  it  were  the  only  one,  Athens  would 
still  be  worthy  of  a  pilgi-image  from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Be- 
hind it  is  a  level  esplanade,  used  as  a  drill-ground,  upon  one  side 
of  which  have  been  gathered  some  relics  of  ancient  buildings  and 
sculptures ;  seated  there  in  an  ancient  marble  chair,  we  never 
wearied  of  studying  the  beautiful  proportions  of  this  temple,  which 
scarcely  suffers  by  comparison  with  the  Parthenon  or  that  at 
Psestum.  In  its  construction  the  same  subtle  secret  of  curved 
lines  and  inclined  verticals  was  known,  a  secret  which  increases 
its  apparent  size  and  satisfies  the  eye  with  harmony. 

While  we  were  in  Athens  the  antiquarians  were  excited  by  the 
daily  discoveries  in  the  excavations  at  the  Keramicus  (the  field 
where  the  Athenian  potters  worked).  Through  the  portion  of  this 
district  outside  the  gate  Dipylum  ran  two  streets,  which  were 
lined  with  tombs ;  one  ran  to  the  Academe,  the  other  was  the  sacred 
way  to  Eleusis.  The  excavations  have  disclosed  many  tombs  and 
lovely  gi'oups  of  funereal  sculpture,  some  of  which  are  in  situ,  but 
many  have  been  removed  to  the  new  Museum.  The  favorite  de- 
vice is  the  seated  figure  of  the  one  about  to  die,  who  in  this  posi- 
tion of  dignity  takes  leave  of  those  most  loved ;  perhaps  it  is  a 
wife,  a  husband,  a  lovely  daughter,  a  handsome  boy,  who  calmly 
awaits  the  inevitable  moment,  while  the  relatives  fondly  look  or 
half  avert  their  sorrowful  faces.  In  all  sculpture  I  know  nothing 
so  touching  as  these  family  farewells.  I  obtained  from  them  a 
new  impression  of  the  Greek  dignity  and  tenderness,  of  the  sim- 
plicity and  nobility  of  their  domestic  life. 

The  Museum,  which  was  unarranged,  is  chiefly  one  of  frag- 
ments, but  what  I  saw  there  and  elsewhere  scattered  about  the 
town  gave  me  a  finer  conception  of  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  art 
than  all  the  more  perfect  remains  in  Europe  put  together ;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  nowhere  except  in  Athens  is  it  possible  to  attain 
a  comprehension  of  its  depth  and  loveliness.  Something,  I  know, 
is  due  to  the  genius  loci,  but  you  come  to  the  knowledge  that  the 
entire  life,  even  the  commonest,  was  pervaded  by  something  that 
has  gone  from  modern  art.     In  the  Museum  we  saw  a  lovely 


THE   GREEK   SENTIMENT.  361 

statue  of  Isis,  a  noble  one  of  Patroclus,  fine  ones  of  athletes,  and 
also,  showing  the  intercourse  with  Egypt,  several  figures  holding 
the  sacred  sistrum,  and  one  of  Raraeses  II.  But  it  is  the  humbler 
and  funereal  art  that  gives  one  a  new  conception  of  the  Greek 
grace,  tenderness,  and  sensibility.  I  have  spoken  of  the  sweet 
dignity,  the  high-bom  grace,  that  accepted  death  with  lofty  resig- 
nation, and  yet  not  with  stoical  indiiFerence,  of  some  of  the 
sepulchral  groups.  There  was  even  more  poetry  in  some  that  are 
simpler.  Upon  one  slab  was  carved  a  figure,  pensive,  alone, 
wrapping  his  drapery  about  him  and  stepping  into  the  silent  land, 
on  that  awful  journey  that  admits  of  no  companion.  On  another, 
which  ^vlls  also  without  inscription,  a  solitary  figure  sat  in  one 
corner ;  he  had  removed  helmet  and  shield,  and  placed  them  on 
the  ground  behind  him ;  a  line  upon  the  stone  indicated  the 
boundary  of  the  invisible  world,  and,  with  a  sad  contemplation, 
the  eyes  of  the  soldier  were  fixed  upon  that  unknown  region  into 
which  he  was  about  to  descend. 

Scarcely  a  day  passed  that  we  did  not  ascend  the  Acropolis ; 
and  again  and  again  we  traversed  the  Areopagus,  the  Pnyx,  the 
Museum  hiUs.  From  the  vaUey  of  the  Agora  stone  steps  lead  up 
the  Areopagus  to  a  bench  cut  in  the  rock.  Upon  this  open  sum- 
mit the  Areopagite  Council  held,  in  the  open  air,  its  solemn  ses- 
sions ;  here  it  sat,  it  is  said,  at  night  and  in  the  dark,  that  no  face 
of  witness  or  criminal,  or  gesture  of  advocate,  should  influence  the 
justice  of  its  decisions.  Dedicated  to  divine  justice,  it  was  the  most 
sacred  and  awful  place  in  Athens ;  in  a  cavern  underneath  it  was 
the  sanctuary  of  the  dread  Erinnyes,  the  avenging  Furies,  whom  a 
later  superstition  represented  with  snakes  twisted  in  their  hair ; 
whatever  the  gay  frivolity  of  the  city,  this  spot  was  silent,  and 
respected  as  the  drea/1  seat  of  judicature  of  the  highest  causes  of 
religion  or  of  politics.  To  us  Mars  Hill  is  chiefly  associated  with 
the  name  of  St.  Paulj  and  I  do  not  suppose  it  matters  much 
whether  he  spoke  to  the  men  of  Athens  in  this  sacred  place  or,  as 
is  more  probable,  from  a  point  farther  down  the  hill,  now  occu- 
pied by  a  little  chapel,  where  he  would  be  nearer  to  the  multitude 
of  the  market-place.  It  does  not  matter ;  it  was  on  the  Areopa- 
gus, and  in  the  centre  of  temples  and  a  thousand  statues  that 
16 


362  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

bespoke  the  highest  civilization  of  the  pagan  world,  that  Paul  pro- 
claimed the  truth,  which  man's  egotism  continually  forgets,  that 
in  temples  made  with  hands  the  Deity  does  not  dwell. 

From  this  height,  on  the  side  of  the  Museum  Hill,  we  see 
the  gi'otto  that  has  been  dignified  with  the  title  of  the  "  prison  of 
Socrates,"  but  upon  slight  grounds.  When  the  philosopher  was 
condemned,  the  annual  sacred  ship  which  was  sent  with  thank- 
offerings  to  Delos  was  still  absent,  and  until  its  return  no  execu- 
tion was  permitted  in  Athens.  Every  day  the  soldiers  who  guarded 
Socrates  ascended  this  hill,  and  went  round  the  point  to  see  if  the 
expected  vessel  was  in  sight ;  and  it  is  for  their  convenience  that 
some  antiquarian  designated  this  grotto  as  the  prison.  The  delay 
of  the  ship  gave  us  his  last  immortal  discourse. 

We  went  one  evening  by  the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  along  the  Ilis- 
sus,  to  the  old  Stadium.  This  classic  stream,  the  Ilissus,  is  a 
gully,  with  steep  banks  and  a  stony  bottom,  and  apparently  never 
wet  except  immediately  after  a  rain.  You  would  think  by  the 
flattery  it  received  from  the  ancient  Athenians  that  it  was  larger 
than  the  Mississippi.  The  Panathenaic  Stadium,  as  it  is  called, 
because  its  chief  use  was  in  the  celebration  of  the  games  of  the 
great  quadrennial  festival,  was  by  nature  and  art  exceedingly  well 
adapted  to  chariot  races  and  other  contests.  Open  at  the  end, 
where  a  bridge  crossed  the  Ilissus,  it  extended  a  hundred  feet 
broad  six  hundred  and  fifty  feet  into  the  hill,  upon  the  three 
sloping  sides  of  which,  in  seats  of  marble,  could  be  accommodated 
fifty  thousand  spectators.  Here  the  Greek  youth  contended  for 
the  prizes  in  the  chariot  race,  and  the  more  barbarous  Roman  em- 
perors amused  a  degenerate  people  with  the  sight  of  a  thousand 
wild  beasts  hunted  and  slain  in  a  single  celebration. 

The  Stadium  has  been  lately  re-excavated,  and  at  the  time  of  ' 

our  visit  the  citizens  were  erecting  some  cheap  benches  at  one  | 

enil,  and  preparing,  in  a  feeble  way,  for  what  it  pleases  them  to  f 

call  the  Olympic  Games,  which  were  to  be  inaugurated  the  follow- 
ing Sunday.     The  place  must  inevitably  dwarf  the  performance,  { 
and  comparison  render  it  ridiculous.     The  committee-men  may 
seem  to  themselves   Olympic   heroes,  and  they  had  the  earnest              | 
air  of  tryiiiij  to  make  themselves  believe  that  they  were  really 


I 


THE  GREEK  REVIVAL.  363 

reviving  the  aiicient  glory  of  Greece,  or  that  they  could  bring  it 
back  by  calling  a  horse-race  and  the  wrestling  of  some  awtn^ard 
peasants  an  "  Olympiad."  The  revival  could  be,  as  we  afterwards 
learned  it  was,  only  a  sickly  and  laughable  affair.  The  life  of  a 
nation  is  only  preserved  in  progress,  not  in  attempts  to  make  dead 
forms  live  again.  It  is  difficidt  to  have  chariot  races  or  dramatic 
contests  mthout  chariots  or  poets,  and  I  suppose  the  modern 
imitation  would  scarcely  be  saved  from  ludicrousness,  even  if  the 
herald  should  proclaim  that  now  a  Patroclus  and  now  an  Aris- 
tophanes was  about  to  enter  the  arena.  The  modem  occupants 
of  Athens  seem  to  be  deceiWng  themselves  a  little  with  names  and 
shadows.  In  the  genuine  effort  to  revive  in  its  purity  the  Greek 
language,  and  to  inspire  a  love  of  art  and  literature,  the  Western 
traveller  will  wholly  sympathize.  In  the  growth  of  a  liberal  com- 
mercial spirit  he  will  see  stiU  more  hope  of  a  new  and  enduring 
Greek  state.  But  a  puerile  imitation  of  a  society  and  a  religion 
which  cannot  possibly  have  a  resurrection  excites  only  a  sad 
smile.  There  is  no  more  pitiful  sight  than  a  man  who  has  lost 
his  ideals,  unless  it  be  a  nation  which  has  lost  its  ideals.  So  long 
as  the  body  of  the  American  people  hold  fast  to  the  simple  and 
primitive  conception  of  a  republican  society,  —  to  the  ideals  of  a 
century  ago,  —  the  nation  can  survive,  as  England  did,  a  period 
of  political  corruption.  There  never  was,  not  under  Themistocles 
nor  under  Scanderbeg,  a  more  glorious  struggle  for  independence 
than  that  which  the  battle  of  Navarino  virtually  terminated.  The 
world  had  a  right  to  expect  from  the  victors  a  new  and  vigorous 
national  life,  not  a  pale  and  sentimental  copy  of  a  splendid  origi- 
nal, which  is  now  as  impossible  of  revival  as  the  Eoman  Empire. 
To  do  the  practical  and  money-getting  Greeks  justice,  I  could  not 
learn  that  they  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  "  Olympiad  "  ;  nor  that 
the  inhabitants  of  ancient  Sparta  were  jealous  of  the  re-institution 
of  the  national  games  in  Athens,  since,  they  say,  there  are  no 
longer  any  Athenians  to  be  jealous  of. 

The  ancient  Athenians  were  an  early  people ;  they  liked  the 
dewy  freshness  of  the  morning ;  they  gave  the  first  hours  of  the 
day  to  the  market  and  to  public  affairs,  and  the  rising  sun  often 
greeted  the  orators  on  the  bema,  and  an  audience  on  the  terrace 


364  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

below.  We  had  seen  the  Acropolis  in  almost- every  aspect,  but  I 
thought  that  one  might  perhaps  catch  more  of  its  ancient  spirit 
at  sunrise  than  at  any  other  hour. 

It  is  four  o'clock  when  my  companion  and  I  descend  into  the 
silent  street  and  take  our  way  to  the  ancieat  citadel  by  the 
shortest  and  steepest  path.  Dawn  is  just  breaking  in  pink,  and 
the  half-moon  is  in  the  sky.  The  sleepy  guard  unbolts  the  gate 
and  admits  us,  but  does  not  care  to  follow ;  and  we  pass  the 
Propylaea  and  have  the  whole  field  to  ourselves.  There  is  a  great 
hush  as  we  come  into  the  silent  presence  of  the  gray  Parthenon ; 
the  shades  of  night  are  still  in  its  columns.  We  take  our  station 
on  a  broken  pillar,  so  that  we  can  enjoy  a  three-quarters  view  of  the 
cast  front.  As  the  light  strengthens  we  have  a  pink  sky  for  back- 
ground to  the  temple,  and  the  smooth  bay  of  Phalerum  is  like  a 
piece  of  the  sky  dropped  dowTi.  Very  gradually  the  light  breaks 
on  the  Parthenon,  and  in  its  glowing  awakening  it  is  like  a  sl-u- 
tient  thing,  throwing  shadows  from  its  columns  and  kindling 
more  and  more  ;  the  lion  gargoyles  on  the  corners  of  the  pedi- 
ment have  a  life  which  we  had  not  noticed  before.  There  is  now 
a  pink  tint  on  the  fragments  of  columns  lying  at  the  side ;  there 
is  a  reddish  hue  on  the  plain  about  Pirttus  ;  the  strait  of  Salaniis 
is  green,  but  growing  blue ;  Phalerum  is  taking  an  iridescent 
sheen  ;  I  can  see,  beyond  the  Gulf  of  iEgina,  the  distant  height 
of  Acro-Corinth. 

The  city  is  still  in  heavy  shadow,  even  the  Temple  of  Theseus 
does  not  relax  from  its  sombreuess.  But  the  light  mounts  ;  it 
catches  the  top  of  the  white  columns  of  the  Propyleea,  it  shines  on 
the  cornice  of  the  Erechtheum,  and  creeps  down  in  blushes  upon 
the  faces  of  the  Caryatides,  which  seem  to  bow  yet  in  worship  of 
the  long-since-departed  Pallas  Athene.  The  bugles  of  the  soldiers 
called  to  drill  on  the  Thesean  esplanade  float  up  to  us ;  they  are 
really  bugle-notes  summoning  the  statues  and  the  old  Panathenaic 
cavalcades  on  the  friezes  to  life  and  morning  action.  The  day 
advances,  the  red  sun  commanding  the  hill  and  flooding  it  with 
light,  and  the  buildings  glowing  more  and  more  in  it,  but  yet 
casting  shadows.  A  hawk  sweeps  around  from  the  north  and 
hangs  poised  on  motioidess  wings  over  the  building  just  as  the 


SUNRISE   ON  ATHENS.  365 

sun  touctes  it.  "We  climb  to  the  top  of  tte  western  pediment  for 
the  wide  sweep  of  view.  The  world  has  already  got  wind  of  day, 
and  is  putting  off  its  nightcaps  and  opening  its  doors.  As  we 
descend  we  peer  about  for  a  bit  of  marble  as  a  memento  of  our 
visit ;  but  Lord  Elgin  has  left  little  for  the  kleptomaniac  to  carry 
away. 

At  this  hour  the  Athenians  ought  to  be  assembling  on  the 
Pnyx  to  hear  Demosthenes,  who  should  be  already  on  the  bema ; 
but  the  bema  has  no  orator,  aud  the  terrace  is  empty.  We  might 
perhaps  see  an  early  representation  at  the  theatre  of  Dionysus, 
into  which  we  can  cast  a  stone  from  this  wall.  We  pass  the  gate, 
scramble  along  the  ragged  hillside,  —  the  dumping-ground  of  the 
excavators  on  the  Acropolis, — and  stand  above  the  highest  seats 
of  the  Amphitheatre.  No  one  has  come.  The  white  marble  chairs 
in  the  front  row  —  carved  with  the  names  of  the  priests  of  Bac- 
chus and  reserved  for  them  —  wait,  and  even  the  seats  not  re- 
served are  empty.  There  is  no  white-clad  chorus  mancEuvring 
on  the  paved  orchestra  about  the  altar ;  the  stage  is  broken  in, 
and  the  crouching  figures  that  supported  it  are  the  only  sign  of 
life.  One  would  like  to  have  sat  upon  these  benches,  that  look 
on  the  sea,  and  listened  to  a  chorus  from  the  Antigone  this  morn- 
ing. One  would  like  to  have  witnessed  that  scene  when  Aris- 
tophanes, on  this  stage,  mimicked  and  ridiculed  Socrates,  and  the 
philosopher,  rising  from  his  undistinguished  seat  high  up  among 
the  people,  replied. 


XXX. 

THROUGH  THE  GULF  OF  CORINTH. 

WITH  deep  reluctance  we  tore  ourselves  from  the  fascinations 
of  Athens  ver\'  early  one  morning.  After  these  things, 
says  the  Christian's  guide,  Paul  departed  from  Athens  and  came 
to  Corinth.  Our  departure  was  in  the  same  direction.  We  had 
no  choice  of  time,  for  the  only  steamer  leaves  on  Sunday  morning, 
and,  besides,  our  going  then  removed  us  from  the  temptation  of 
the  Olympic  games.  At  half  past  five  we  were  on  board  the  little 
Greek  steamer  at  the  Piraeus. 

We  sailed  along  Salamis.  It  was  a  morning  of  clouds  ;  but 
iEgina  (once  mistress  of  these  seas,  and  the  hated  rival  of  Athens) 
and  the  Peloponnesus  were  robed  in  graceful  garments  that,  like 
the  veils  of  the  Circassian  girls,  did  not  conceal  their  forms.  In 
four  hours  we  landed  at  Kalamaki,  which  is  merely  a  station  for 
the  transfer  of  passengers  across  the  Isthmus.  Six  miles  south 
on  the  coast  we  had  a  glimpse  of  Cenchreae,  which  is  famous  as 
the  place  where  Paul,  still  under  the  bonds  of  Jewish  superstition, 
having  accomplished  his  vow,  shaved  his  head.  The  neck  of 
limestone  rock,  which  connects  the  Peloponnesus  with  the  main- 
land, is  ten  miles  long,  and  not  more  than  four  miles  broad  from 
Kalamaki  to  Lutraki  on  the  Gulf  of  Corinth,  and  as  it  is  not,  at 
its  highest  elevation,  over  a  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  the  pro- 
ject of  piercing  it  with  a  canal,  which  was  often  entertained  and 
actually  begun  by  Nero,  does  not  seem  preposterous.  The  travel- 
ler over  it  to-day  will  see  some  remains  of  the  line  of  fortification, 
the  Isthmian  Wall,  which  served  in  turn  Greeks,  Macedonians, 
Saracens,  Latin  Crusaders,  and  Slavonic  settlers ;  and  fragments  of 


1 


OLD  CORINTH.  367 

the  ancient  buildings  of  the  Isthmian  Sanctuary,  where  the  Pan- 
hellenic  festivals  were  celebrated. 

The  drive  across  was  exceedingly  pleasant.  The  Isthmus  is 
seamed  with  ravines  and  ridges,  picturesque  with  rocks  which 
running  vines  drape  and  age  has  colored,  and  variegated  with 
corn-fields.  We  enjoyed  on  either  hand  the  splendid  mountain 
forms  ;  on  the  north  white  Helicon  and  Parnassus  ;  on  the  south 
the  nearly  two-thousand-feet  wall-crowned  height  of  Acro-Corinth 
and  the  broken  snowy  hiUs  of  the  Morea. 

Familiar  as  we  were  with  the  atlas,  we  had  not  until  now  any 
adequate  conception  how  much  indented  the  Grecian  mainland 
and  islands  are,  nor  how  broken  into  peaks,  narrow  valleys,  and 
long  serrated  summits  are  the  contours.  When  we  appreciate,  by 
actual  sight,  the  midtitude  of  islands  that  compose  Greece,  how 
subject  to  tempests  its  seas  are,  how  difficult  is  communication 
between  the  villages  of  the  mainland,  or  even  those  on  the  same 
island,  we  understand  the  naturalness  of  the  ancient  divisions 
and  stiifes ;  and  we  see  the  physical  obstacles  to  the  creation  of  a 
feeling  of  unity  in  the  present  callow  kingdom.  And  one  hears 
with  no  surprise  that  Corfu  wishes  herself  back  under  English 
protection. 

We  drove  through  the  cluster  of  white  houses  on  the  bay,  which 
is  now  called  Corinth,  and  saw  at  three  miles'  distance  the  site 
of  the  old  city  and  the  Acropolis  beyond  it.  Earthquakes  and 
malaria  have  not  been  more  lenient  to  the  ancient  town  than  was 
Koman  vengeance,  and  of  the  capital  which  was  to  Greece  in 
luxury  what  Athens  was  in  wit,  only  a  few  columns  and  sinking 
walls  remain.  Even  the  voluptuousness  of  Corinth  is  a  tale  of 
two  thousand  years  ago,  and  the  name  might  long  ago  have  sunk 
with  the  fortunes  of  the  city,  but  for  the  long  residence  there  of  a 
poor  tent-maker,  in  whom  no  proud  citizen  of  that  day,  of  aU  those 
who  "  sat  down  to  eat  and  drink  and  rose  up  to  play,"  would 
have  recognized  the  chief  creator  of  its  fame. 

Our  little  Greek  steamer  was  crowded  excessively,  and  mainly 
with  Greeks  going  to  Patras  and  Zante,  who  noisUy  talked  poli- 
tics and  business  in  a  manner  that  savored  more  of  New  England 
than  of  the  land  of  Solon  and  Plato.     For  the  first  time  in  a 


368  IN  THE   LEVANT. 

travel  of  many  months  we  met  families  together,  gentlemen  with 
their  wives  and  children,  and  saw  the  evidences  of  a  happy  home- 
life.  It  is  everything  in  favor  of  the  Greeks  that  they  have  pre- 
served the  idea  of  home,  and  cherish,  as  the  centre  of  all  good  and 
strength,  domestic  purity. 

At  dinner  there  was  an  undisguised  rush  for  seats  at  the  table, 
and  the  strongest  men  got  them.  We  looked  down  through  the 
skylights  and  beheld  the  valiant  Greeks  flourishing  their  knives, 
attacking,  while  expecting  soup, .the  caviare  and  pickles,  and 
thrusting  the  naked  blades  into  their  mouths  without  fear.  The 
knife  seems  seldom  to  hurt  the  Greek,  whose  display  of  deadly 
weapons  is  mainly  for  show.  There  are  dozens  of  stout  swarthy 
fellows  on  board,  in  petticoats  and  quilted  leggings,  with  each 
a  belly  full  of  weapons,  —  the  protruding  leathern  pouch  contains 
a  couple  of  pistols,  a  cheese-knife,  cartridges,  and  pipes  and 
tobacco. 

The  sail  through  the  Gulf  of  Corinth  is  one  to  be  enjoyed  and 
remembered,  but  the  reader  shall  not  be  wearied  with  a  catalogue 
of  names.  What  is  it  to  him  tliat  we  felt  the  presence  of  Delphi, 
that  we  had  Parnassus  on  our  right,  and  Mt.  Panachaicum,  lifting 
itself  higher  than  ^It.  Washington,  on  our  left,  the  Locrian  coast 
on  one  side,  and  the  range  of  Arcadia  on  the  other  ?  The  strait 
narrowed  as  we  came  at  evening  near  Patras,  and  between  the 
opposite  forts  of  Rheum  and  Antirheum  it  is  no  broader  than  the 
Bosphorus ;  it  was  already  dusky  when  we  peered  into  the  Bay 
of  Lepanto,  which  is  not,  however,  the  site  of  the  battle  of  that 
name  in  which  the  natural  son  of  the  pretty  innkeeper  of  Ratisbon 
rendered  such  a  signal  service  to  Christendom.  Patras,  a  thriving 
new  city,  which  inherits  the  name  but  not  the  site  of  the  ancient, 
lies  open  in  the  narrow  strait,  subject  to  the  high  wind  which 
always  blows  through  the  passage,  and  is  usually  a  dangerous  land- 
ing. All  the  time  that  we  lay  there  in  the  dark  we  thought  a 
tempest  was  prevailing,  but  the  clamor  subsided  when  we  moved 
into  the  open  sea.  Of  Patras  we  saw  nothing  except  a  circle  of 
lights  on  the  shore  a  mile  long,  a  procession  of  colored  torches 
which  illumined  for  an  instant  the  facade  of  the  city  hall,  and 
some  rockets  which  went  up  in  honor  of  a  local  patriot  who  had 


THE   IONIAN   ISLES.  369 

returned  on  our  boat  from  Atbens.  And  we  had  not  even  a 
glimpse  of  Missolonghi,  whicli  we  passed  in  the  niglit. 

At  daylight  we  are  at  Zante,  anchored  in  its  eastward-looking 
harbor  opposite  the  Peloponnesian  coast.  The  town  is  most 
charmingly  situated,  and  gives  one  an.  impression  of  wealth  and 
elegance.  Old  Zacynthus  was  renowned  for  its  hospitality  before 
the  days  of  the  Athenian  and  Spartan  wars,  and  —  such  is  the  te- 
nacity with  which  traits  are  perpetuated  amid  a  thousand  changes  — 
its  present  wealthy  and  enterprising  merchant-farmers,  whose 
villas  are  scattered  about  the  slopes,  enjoy  a  reputation  for  the 
same  delightful  gift.  The  gentlemen  are  distinguished  among 
the  lonians  for  their  fondness  of  country  life  and  comdvial  gayety. 
Early  as  it  was,  the  town  welcomed  us  with  its  most  gracious 
offerings  of  flowers  and  fruit ;  for  the  pedlers  who  swarmed  on 
board  brought  nothing  less  poetical  than  handfuls  of  dewy  roses, 
carnations,  heliotrope,  freshly  cut  mignonette,  baskets  of  yellow 
oranges,  and  bottles  of  red  wine.  The  wine,  of  which  the  Zante 
passengers  had  boasted,  was  very  good,  and  the  oranges,  solid, 
juicy,  sweet,  the  best  I  have  ever  eaten,  except,  perhaps,  some 
grown  in  a  fortunate  year  in  Florida.  Shai-p  hills  rise  behind 
the  town,  and,  beyond,  a  most  fertile  valley  broadens  out  to  the 
sea.  Almost  all  the  land  is  given  up  to  the  culture  of  the  cur- 
rant-vine, the  grapes  of  Corinth,  for  in  the  transfer  of  the  chief 
cultivation  of  this  profitable  fruit  from  Corinth  to  Zante,  the  name 
went  with  the  dwarf  vines.  On  the  hillsides,  as  we  sailed  away, 
we  observed  innumerable  tcn*aces,  broad,  flat,  and  hard  like 
threshing-floors,  and  learned  that  they  were  the  drying-grounds 
of  the  ripe  currants. 

We  were  all  day  among  the  Ionian  Islands,  and  were  able  to  see 
all  of  them  except  Cythera,  off  Cape  Malea,  esteemed  for  its  honey 
and  its  magnificent  temple  to  the  foam-born  Venus.  They  lay  in 
such  a  light  as  the  reader  of  Homer  likes  to  think  of  them.  We 
sailed  past  them  as  in  a  dream,  not  caring  to  distinguish  histoiy 
from  fable.  It  was  off  the  little  Echinades,  near  the  coast,  by 
the  mouth  of  the  Achelous,  that  Don  John,  three  hundred  years 
ago,  broke  the  European  onset  of  the  Ottoman  arms ;  it  Avas 
nearly  a  dear  victory  for  Christendom,  for  among  the  severely 
16*  X 


370  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

wounded  was  Cervantes,  and  Don  Quixote  had  not  yet  been  ^vrit- 
ten.  But  this  battle  is  not  more  real  to  us  than  the  story  of 
Ulysses  and  Penelope  which  the  rocky  surface  of  Ithaca  recalls. 
And  as  we  lingered  along  the  shores  of  Cephalonia  and  Leucadia, 
it  was  not  of  any  Caesar  or  Byzantine  emperor  or  Norman  chieftain 
that  we  thought,  but  of  the  poet  whose  verses  \n\\  outlast  all  their 
renown.  Leucadia  still  harbors,  it  is  said,  the  breed  of  wolves 
that,  perhaps,  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  these  islands  preserve  in 
purity  the  Hellenic  blood.  We  sailed  close  to  the  long  promon- 
tory, "  Leucadia's  far-projecting  rock  of  woe,"  and  saw,  if  any  one 
may  see,  the  very  precipice  from  which  Sappho,  leaping,  quenched 
in  brine  the  amatory  flames  of  a  heart  that  sixty  years  of  song 
and  trouble  had  not  cooled. 

Through  the  strait  of  Actium  we  looked  upon  the  smooth  in- 
land sea  of  Ambracia,  while  our  steamer  churned  along  the  very 
waters  that  saw  the  flight  of  the  purple  sails  of  Cleopatra,  whom 
the  enamored  Antony  followed  and  left  the  world  to  Augustus. 
The  world  was  a  small  affair  then,  when  its  possession  could  be 
decided  on  a  bit  of  water  where,  as  Byron  says,  two  frigates  could 
hardly  manoeuvre.  These  historical  empires  were  fleeting  shows 
at  the  best,  not  to  be  compared  to  the  permanent  conquests  and 
empire  of  the  mind.  The  voyager  from  the  Bosphorus  to  Corfu 
feels  that  it  is  not  any  Alexander  or  Caesar,  Chagan  or  Caliph,  but 
Homer,  who  rules  over  the  innumerable  islands  and  sunny  main- 
lands of  Greece. 

It  was  deep  twilight  when  we  passed  the  barren  rock  of  Anti- 
paxos,  and  the  mountain  in  the  sea  called  Paxos.  There  is  no 
island  in  all  these  seas  that  has  not  its  legend ;  that  connected 
with  Paxos,  and  recorded  by  Plutarch,  I  am  tempted  to  trans- 
cribe from  the  handbook,  in  the  quaint  language  in  which  it  is 
quoted,  for  it  expresses  not  only  the  spirit  of  this  wild  coast,  but 
also  our  own  passage  out  of  the  domain  of  mythology  into  the 
sunlight  of  Christian  countries :  "  Here,  about  the  time  that 
our  Lord  suffered  his  most  bitter  passion,  certain  persons  sail- 
ing from  Italy  to  Cyprus  at  night  heard  a  voice  calling  aloud, 
Thamus !  Thamus  !  who  giving  ear  to  the  cry  was  bidden  (for 
he  was  pilot  of  the  ship),  when  he  came  near  to  Pelodes  to  tell 


CORFU.  371 

that  the  great  god  Pan  was  dead,  which  he  doubting  to  do,  yet 
for  that  when  he  came  to  Pelodes  there  was  such  a  calm  of  wind 
that  the  ship  stood  still  in  the  sea  unmoored,  he  was  forced  to 
cry  aloud  that  Pan  was  dead ;  wherewithal  there  were  such  pit- 
eous outcries  and  dreadful  shrieking  as  hath  not  been  the  like. 
By  which  Pan,  of  some  is  imderstood  the  great  Sathanas,  whose 
kingdom  was  at  that  time  by  Christ  conquered,  and  the  gates  of 
hell  broken  up ;  for  at  that  time  all  oracles  surceased,  and  en- 
chanted spirits  that  were  wont  to  delude  the  people  henceforth 
held  their  peace." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  at  night  when  we  reached  Corfu,  and  sailed 
in  under  the  starlight  by  the  frowning  hill  of  the  fortress,  gliding 
spectrally  among  the  shipping,  with  steam  shut  off,  and  at  a  sig- 
nal given  by  the  bowsman  letting  go  the  anchor  in  front  of  the 
old  battery. 

Corfu,  in  the  opinion  of  Napoleon,  enjoys  the  most  beaiitiful 
situation  in  the  world.  Its  loveliness  is  in  no  danger  of  being 
overpraised.  Shut  in  by  the  Albanian  coast  opposite,  the  town 
appears  to  lie  upon  a  lake,  surrounded  by  the  noblest  hills  and 
decorated  with  a  tropical  vegetation.  Very  picturesque  in  its 
moss-grown  rock  is  the  half-dismantled  old  double  fortress,  which 
the  English,  in  surrendering  to  the  weak  Greek  state,  endeavored 
to  render  as  weak  as  possible.  It  and  a  part  of  the  town  occupy 
a  bold  promontory  ;  the  remainder  of  the  city  lies  around  a  little 
bay  formed  by  this  promontory  and  Quarantine  Island.  The 
more  we  see  of  the  charming  situation,  and  become  familiar  with 
the  delicious  mountain  outlines,  we  regret  that  we  can  tarry  but 
a  day,  and  almost  envy  those  who  make  it  a  winter  home.  The 
interior  of  the  city  itself,  when  we  ascend  the  height  and  walk  in 
the  palace  square,  appears  bright  and  cheerful,  but  retains  some- 
thing of  the  dull  and  decorous  aspect  of  an  English  garrison 
town.  In  the  shops  the  traveller  does  not  find  much  to  interest 
him,  except  the  high  prices  of  all  antiquities.  We  drove  five 
miles  into  the  country,  to  the  conical  hill  and  garden  of  Gasturi, 
whose  mistress  gathered  for  us  flowers  and  let  us  pluck  from  the 
trees  the  ripe  and  ratlier  tasteless  nesjmli.  From  this  summit  is 
an  extraordinary  prospect  of  blue  sea,  mountains,  snowy  summits, 


372  IN  THE  LEVANT. 

the  town,  and  the  island,  broken  into  sharp  peaks  and  most  lux- 
uriant valleys  and  hillsides.  Ancient,  gnarled  olive-trees  abound, 
thousands  of  acres  of  grapevines  were  in  sight,  the  hedges  were 
the  prickly-pear  cactus,  and  groves  of  walnuts  and  most  vigorous 
fig-trees  interspersed  the  landscape.  There  was  even  here  and 
there  a  palm.     A  lovely  land,  most  poetical  in  its  contours. 

The  Italian  steamer  for  Brindisi  was  crowded  with  passengers. 
On  the  forward  deck  was  a  picturesque  horde  of  Albanian  gypsies. 
The  captain  said  that  he  counted  eighty,  without  the  small  ones, 
which,  to  avoid  the  payment  of  fare,  were  done  up  in  handker- 
chiefs and  carried  in  bags  like  kittens.  The  men,  in  broad,  short 
breeches  and  the  jackets  of  their  country,  were  stout  and  fine 
fellows  physically.  The  women,  wearing  no  marked  costume,  but 
clad  in  any  rags  of  dresses  that  may  have  been  begged  or  stolen, 
were  strikingly  wild  in  appearance,  and  if  it  is  true  that  the 
women  of  a  race  best  preserve  the  primeval  traits,  these  preserve, 
in  their  swarthy  complexions,  burning  black  eyes,  and  jet  black 
hair,  the  characteristics  of  some  savage  Oriental  tribe.  The  hair 
in  front  was  woven  into  big  braids,  which  were  stiff  with  coins 
and  other  barbarous  ornaments  in  silver.  A  few  among  them 
might  be  called  handsome,  since  their  profiles  were  classic ;  but 
it  was  a  Avild  beauty  which  woman  sometimes  shares  with  the 
panther.  They  slept  about  the  deck  amidst  their  luggage,  one 
family  usually  crawling  into  a  single  sack.  In  the  morning  there 
w^ere  nests  of  them  all  about,  and,  as  they  crawled  fortli,  especially 
as  the  little  ones  swarmed  out,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  the 
number  of  passengers  had  not  been  miracidously  increased  in  the 
night.  The  women  carry  the  fortune  of  the  family  on  their  heads; 
certaiidy  their  raiment,  which  drapes  but  does  not  conceal  their 
forms,  would  scarcely  have  a  value  in  the  rag-market  of  Naples. 
I  bought  of  one  of  them  a  silver  ornament,  cutting  it  from  the 
woman's  hair,  but  I  observed  that  her  husband  appropriated  the 
money. 

It  was  like  entering  a  new'  world  of  order  and  civilization,  next 
morning,  to  sail  through  the  vast  outer  harbor  of  Brindisi  into 
the  inner  one,  and  lie,  for  the  first  time  in  the  Mediterranean,  at 
a  dock.     The  gypsies  made  a  more  picturesque  landing  than  the 


BRINDISI.  373 

other  passengers,  trudging  away  with  their  bags,  tags,  rags,  and 
tent-poles,  the  women  and  children  lugging  their  share.  It  was 
almost  touching  to  see  theii'  care  for  the  heaps  of  rubbish  which 
constitute  all  their  worldly  possessions.  They  come  like  locusts 
to  plunder  sunny  Italy ;  on  a  pretence  of  seeking  work  in  the 
fields,  they  wiU  spend  the  summer  in  the  open  air,  gaining  health 
and  living,  as-their  betters  like  to  Hve,  upon  the  labor  of  others. 

Brindisi  has  a  beautiful  Roman  column,  near  it  the  house  where 
VirgU  is  said  to  have  died,  and  an  ancient  fortress,  which  is  half 
crumbLiiig  walls  and  half  dwelling-houses,  and  is  surrounded,  like 
the  city  wall,  by  a  moat,  now  converted  into  a  vegetable  garden. 
As  I  was  peacefully  walking  along  the  rampart,  intending  to  sur- 
round the  town,  a  soldier  motioned  me  back,  as  if  it  had  been 
time  of  war.  I  offered  to  stroU  over  the  drawbridge  into  the 
mouldy  fortress.  A  soldier  objected.  As  I  turned  away,  he 
changed  his  mind,  and  offered  to  show  me  the  interior.  But  it 
was  now  my  turn  to  decline ;  and  I  told  him  that,  the  idle  im- 
pulse passed,  I  would  rather  not  go  in.  Of  aU  human  works  I 
care  the  least  for  fortresses,  except  to  look  at  from  the  outside ; 
it  is  not  worth  while  to  enter  one  except  by  storming  it  or  stroll- 
ing in,  and  when  one  must  ask  permission  the  charm  is  gone.  You 
get  sick  to  death  almost  of  these  soldier-folk  who  start  up  and 
bar  your  way  with  a  bayonet  wherever  you  seek  to  walk  in  Eu- 
rope. No,  soldier ;  I  like  the  view  from  the  wall  of  the  moat, 
and  the  great  fields  of  ripe  wheat  waving  in  the  sweet  north-wind, 
but  I  don't  care  for  you  or  your  fortress. 

Brindisi  is  clean,  but  dull.  Yet  it  was  characteristically  Italian 
that  I  should  encounter  in  the  Duomo  square  a  smart,  smooth- 
tongued charlatan,  who  sold  gold  chains  at  a  franc  each,  —  which 
did  not  seem  to  be  dear ;  and  a  jolly,  almost  hilarious  cripple, 
who,  having  no  use  of  his  shrunken  legs,  had  mounted  himself  on 
a  wooden  bottom,  like  a  cheese-box,  and,  by  the  aid  of  his  hands, 
went  about  as  lively  as  a  centipede. 

I  stepped  into  the  cathedral ;  a  service  was  droning  on,  with 
few  listeners.  On  one  side  of  the  altar  was  a  hideous,  soiled 
wax  image  of  the  dead  Christ.  Over  the  altar,  in  the  central 
place  of  worship,  was  a  flaring  figure  of  the  Virgin,  clad  in  the 


374  IN   THE   LEVANT. 

latest  mode  of  Prench  millinery,  and  underneath  it  was  the  legend, 
Fiva  Maria.  This  was  the  salutation  of  our  return  to  a  Christiar. 
land  :  Christ  is  dead ;  the  Virgin  lives  ! 


Here  our  journey,  which  began  on  the  other  coast  of  Italy  in 
November,  ends  in  June.  In  ascending  the  Nile  to  the  Second 
Cataract,  and  making  the  circuit  of  the  Levant,  we  have  seen  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  Moslem  Empire  and  of  the  nascent 
Greek  kingdom,  which  aspires,  at  least  in  Europe,  to  displace  it. 
We  have  seen  both  in  a  transition  period,  as  marked  as  any  since 
the  Saracens  trampled  out  the  last  remnants  of  the  always  sickly 
Greek  Empire.  The  prospect  is  hopeful,  although  the  picture 
of  social  and  political  life  is  far  from  agreeeble.  But  for  myself, 
now  that  we  are  out  of  the  Orient  and  away  from  all  its  squalor 
and  cheap  magnificence,  I  turn  again  to  it  with  a  longing  which 
I  cannot  explain ;  it  is  still  the  land  of  the  imagination. 


I 


IIJTDEX 


Abana,  the  sacred,  175-184;  fantastic 
coontry-seats  on,  176  ;  gorge  of  the,  210, 
211. 

Abd-el-Atti,  our  guide  and  dragoman,  2  ;  in 
trouble,  218 ;  unexpected  champion  of, 
220 ;  imprisonment  in  and  release  from 
the  seraglio,  225  ;  parting  with,  323. 

Abd-el-Kader,  visit  to,  202;  enUghtened 
and  democratic  views  of,  203 ;  true  Ori- 
ental farewell  of,  204. 

Abraham,  tomb  of,  59;  visit  of,  to  Egypt, 
156,  179  ;  Palestine  in  possession  of  Ca- 
naanites  in  time  of,  157 ;  a  dweller  in 
Damascus  before  going  to  Canaan,  178. 

Absalom,  David's  iflight  from,  61 ;  tomb  of, 
stones  cast  at  the,  62,  66. 

Abu  Ghaush,  the  terrible  robber,  21;  de- 
fied Turkish  power  for  fifty  years,  22. 

Abydos,  scene  of  Leander's  and  Byron's 
swimming  feat,  274  ;  laying  of  Xerxes's 
bridge  at,  274. 

Abyssinians,  camp  of  decent,  113  ;'repulsive 
character  of,  143. 

Academe,  grove  of,  355. 

Aceldama,  the  "  field  of  blood,"  66  ;  an  un- 
canny place,  68. 

Achelous,  battle  between  Ottomans  and 
Christians  near  mouth  of  the,  369. 

Achille,  steamer,  trip  to  Cyprus  on,  228 ; 
passengers  of,  a  mixture  of  all  nations, 
241 ;  through  the  Dardanelles  in,  273. 

Achilles,  in  woman's  apparel,  335. 

Achmed,  champion  of  Abd-el-Atti,f220. 

Acre,  city  of,  last  hold  of  the  Christians  in 
Palestine,  64. 

Acro-Corinth,  356,  364,  367. 

Acropolis,  ancient  temples  at  Ba'albek 
grander  than  the,  170  ;  statue  on  the, 
337  ;  feelings  on  first  sight  of,  340 ;  the 
centre  of  the  world's  thought,  341 ;  de- 
scription of,  344 ;  every  Greek  city  had 
its,  354  ;  seen  at  sunrise,'  364 ;  last  view 
of,  367. 

Actium,  Nicopolis  built  to  commemorate 
the  victory  of,  123;  through  the  strait 
of,  370. 

Adam,  chapel  of,  51. 

Adams  colony  in  Jaffa,  remnants  of,  7  ;  its 
httle  church  of  Maine  timber,  7  ;  dismay 
of,  amid  Moslem  squalor,  7;  its  leader 
lacking  faith  to  wait,  T  ;  its  deluded  vic- 


tims rescued  by  government,  8  ;  its  Ger- 
man successor  prosperous,  8  ;  hope  of 
making  money  cause  of  the  American 
failure,  8  ;  New  Hampshire  woman's  talk 
about,  9  ;  odd  contrast  of  Yankee  dialect 
with  Oriental  surroundings,  9  ;  more  dif- 
ficult to  keep  up  a  religious  feeling  here 
than  at  home,  11. 

Adirondacks,  AVhiteface  resembles  Mt. 
Athos  in  Greece,  334. 

Adullam,  cave  of,  Pavid's  hiding  in,  117, 
126. 

JEgaleos,  Mt.,351,352. 

.aigean  islands,  2^49;  former  splendor  of, 
333 ;  destroyed  and  stripped  by  Turkish 
avarice,  333 ;  still  under  the  speU  of  gen- 
ius, 336. 

^gina,  Gulfof,  364. 

.aimilius  Paulus,  battle  between,  and  King 
Perseus,  332. 

.aischylus,  335  ;  bom  in  Eleusis,  354. 

Afirica  circumnavigated  by  Phoenician  sail- 
ors, 157. 

Africans  in  Salonica,  lofty  bearing  of,  331. 

Agamemnon,  Paula's  descent  from,  123. 

Agora,  valley  of  the,  347,  361. 

Ahab,  Jericho  rebuilt  in  tune  of,  97,  98. 

Ahman,  our  Abyssinian  servant,  2. 

Ahmed,  our  faithful  servant,  323. 

Ahmed,  Sultan,  mosque  of,  292,  291 

Aidin,  railway  to,  257. 

'Ain  Duk,  fountain  of,  99. 

'Ain  es-Sultan,  fountain  of,  96-99. 

Ajalon,  valley  of,  19. 

Akka,  battlements  of,  153. 

Aksa,  mosque  of,  59. 

Aladdin,  discoveries  of  Cesnola  read  like  the 
adventures  of,  239. 

Alamas,  discoveries  in,  by  Cesnola,  238. 

Albanian  coast,  371. 

Albanians,  Napoleon's  cruel  destruction  of, 
13 ;  accustomed  to  being  massacred  by 
the  Romans  and  others,  13 ;  island  of 
Andros  cultivated  by,  336  ;  costume  of, 
342,  353. 

Alcaeus,  born  at  Lesbos,  268- 

Alcibiades  sought  Ephesus  for  its  treasures 
of  art  and  learning,  265.. 

Alexander,  Smyrna  restored  by,  256 ;  sat  to 
ApeUes  for  his  portrait,  266 ;  golden  char- 
iot of,  301. 


376 


INDEX. 


Ali,  Mohammed,  mosque  of,  206;  old  palace 

of,  312. 
Allah,  the  valley  of  the  Ahana  the  gift  of, 

182. 
"All  for  the  state  and  nothing  for  the 

man,"  the  ancient  motto,  335. 
Amathus,  ancient  city  of  Cyprus,  236  ;  an- 
cient tombs  opened  at,  238. 
Amazonian  state  set  up  by  women  of  Lem- 

nos,  325  ;    its  formidable  reputation  in 

the  ancient  world,  325. 
Ambracia,  inland  sea  of,  370. 
America,  the  only  land  of  real  freedom,  203 ; 

Cesnola's  discoveries  a  credit  to,  233;  to 

be  saved  by  preserving  its  early  ideals,  363. 
American  cemetery  at  Jerusalem,  39. 
American  consul  at  Beyrout,  singular  con- 
duct of,  221. 
American  mission  in  Syria,  215  ;  in  Athens, 

348. 
Ammochosto,  ancient  city  of,  236. 
Ammon,  worship  of  the  god  of,  69. 
Amorites,  spot   where  Joshua  smote  the, 

19  ;  David's  raid  on,  21. 
Amphitheatre,   looking    down    upon    the, 

366;  Aristophanes  and  Socrates  antago- 

niiits  in  the,  365. 
Anakini,  giants  of,  157. 
Anastu-sius,  horrible  assassination  in  reign 

of,  205. 
Ancient  builders,  cyclopean  structureB  of, 

169. 
Andrew,  St.,  reburied  in  Church  of  St. 

Sophia,  291. 
Andromeda,  stones  she  was  chained  to,  162. 
Andres,  wine  of,  once  famous  through  all 

tJ recce,  336. 
AuKcl,  chapel  of  the,  30. 
Aujar,  the  river,  173. 
Antar,  singers  reciting  the  deeds  of,  272. 
Antigone,  chorus  from  the,  365. 
Anti-Lebanon,  foot-hills  of,  165,  173. 
Antioch,  John  of,  in  the  Council  of  Ephe- 

sus,  260, 261 ;  Simon  Stylites  on  his  pillar 

at,  310. 
Antipaxos,  barren  rock  of,  370. 
Antiques,  exaggerated  notion  of  the  value 

of,  355,  371. 
Antiquities  of  the  Syrian  coast,  157. 
Antirheum,  fortress  of,  368. 
Antonia,  fortress  of,  rebuilt  by  Herod,  55. 
Antonio,  a  loquacious  dragoman,  100. 
Antony,  lived  with  Cleopatra  at  Samos,  251 ; 

progress  of,  in  Ephcsu8,265. 
Apelles,  born  in  Kos,  249. 
Aplirodisium,  surveyed  by  Cesnola,  237. 
.\pbrodite,  fabled    to  have  been  born  off 

coast  of  Cyprus,  233. 
Apollo,    sacred    fire    of,    extinguished    in 

Patera,  245;  birthplace  of,  336;  site  of 

Temple  of,  352. 
Apollo  llvlatcs.  Temple  of,  discovered  by 

Ce,>Juola  at  Curium,  238. 
Apostles'  Creed,  place  where  composed,  76. 
Apples  of  the  Dead  fea,  101. 
Araba,  a  wagon  like  the  band  chariot  of  a 

circus,  312 ;  ascent  of  the  Giant's  Grave 

Mountain  in,  313. 


Arabian  poets,  Damascus  celebrated  by,  182. 
Arabs  improvident,  106. 
Araxes,  pilgrims  from  the  banks  of,  72. 
Arcadius,  first  Emperor  of  Byzantium,  ri- 
valled in  magnificence  the  Persian  mon- 

archs  and  califs  of  Bagdad,  287  ;  reception 

of  the  ashes  of  the  Prophet  Samuel  by, 

291. 
Archilochus,  home  of  the  poet,  325. 
Archipelago,  toleration  needed  to  restore  its 

ancient  glory,  330. 
Areopagite  council,  awful  solemnity  of, 361. 
Areopagus,  345,  347,  361. 
Argos,  262,  354. 
Argonauts,  return  of,  to  Koroo  Chesmeh, 

310  ;  halt  at  mouth  of  Bosphorus,  314  ; 

Lemnos  made  headquarters  of,  325. 
Arian  controversy,  292. 
Arimathea,  tomb  of  Joseph  of,  47. 
Aristidcs,  347. 
Aristophanes,  the  sharp,  ringing  tones  of 

the  Ureuk  language  made  his  imitation 

of  the  frogs  easy,  3o3. 
Aristotle,  his  meditations  in  the  groves  of 

Academe,  355  ;  Lesbos  visited  by,  269. 
Ark,  planks  from  the,  kept  in  the  Mosque 

of  St.  Sophia,  290. 
Arkansas,  the  Jordan  resembles  the,  104. 
Arki,  island  of,  260. 
Armenian  convent  in  Jerusalem ,  filled  with 

pilgrims,  .36  ;  bells  of,  made  of  plank,  36 ; 

imposing  appearance  of  bishop  of,  37  ;  a 

Napoleon  each  price  of  lodging  in,  37; 

an  odd  collection  of  pilgrim  shoos  in,  37  ; 

another  visit  to,  141;  refreshments  at,  143. 
Armenians,  25,  27. 
Amot,   Miss,   noble   work  of  her  mission 

school  for  girls  in  Jaffa,  6,  7. 
Arsinoe,  old  city  of,  found  by  Cesnola,  238. 
Art  must  be  seen  where  its  great  works  are 

produced  to  be  fully  understood,  360. 
Art  and  culture,  wonderful  revival  of,  in 

Athens,  348. 
Artemis,  birthplace  of,  336. 
Artemisia,  Queen,  ruler  of  Telos  and  Nisy- 

ros,  249  ;  tomb  of  Mausolus  built  by, 250  ; 

sheltered  the  children  of  Xerxes,  265. 
Ascension,  Chapel  of  the,  on  Mount   of 

Olives,  75. 
Asher,  residence  of  the  tribe  of,  153 ;  im- 
portance of,  in  time  of  the  Crusades,  163  ; 

Napoleon's  discomfiture  at,  153. 
Ashtaroth,  lascivious  rites  of,  69,  86. 
Asia  Minor,  government  of,  robs  industry, 

252 ;  the  ancient  Bitliynia  and  Mysia,  3ii7. 
Asia,  purple  bills  of,  seen  from  the  walls  of 

Mitylcnc,  268. 
Askalnn,  pilgrims  from,  140. 
Assiout,  spring  of,   resorted  to  by  women 

desiring  offspring,  125. 
Assurl)anapal,  the  Assyrian  monarch  (Sar- 

danapalus),  240. 
Assyrians,  kingdom  of  Israel  gobbled  up  by 

the,  42. 
Astypataea,  isle  of,  260. 
Athenais,  317. 
Athens,  art  of,  a  great  power  in  the  world, 

86  ;   love  of,  for  Skyros,  335 ;   plain  of, 


II 


INDEX. 


377 


338  ;  ride  to,  by  the  Long  WaU  of,  339  ; 
baggy  garments  of  the  East  not  seen  in, 
339 ;  comfbrt  of  its  broad  street*  after  the 
narrow  lanes  of  the  Orient,  340 ;  women 
of,  not  beauties,  342  ;  no  ancient  Athenian 
found  in ,  342  ;  great  growth  of,  in  forty 
years,  344  ;  University  of,  349  ;  bigotry 
of  Greek  Church  in,  349 ;  seen  from  the 
AcropoUs  at  sunrise,  364. 

Athos,  Mt.,  site  of  Agamemnon's  beacon- 
fire,  326 ;  independence  of  the  Greek 
Church  on,  326  ;  architecture  and  cus- 
toms of  the  Middle  Ages  preserved  on, 
326  ;  no  women  allowed  to  set  foot  on,  or 
any  female  animal,  327  ;  glory  of  a  sunset 
on,  327  ;  its  lordship  over  theiEgean,  834. 

Attic  bees  as  busy  as  two  thousand  years 
ago,  352. 

Attica,  portals  of,  337  ;  world-wide  influence 
of  its  history  beUed  by  its  meagre  terri- 
tory, 338. 

Augustus,  empire  left  to,  by  Antony,  370. 

Aurelia  de  Bossa,  tomb  of,  76. 

AureUan,  289. 

Ayasolook,once  a  residence  of  sultans,  258 ; 
picturesque  ruins  of,  259. 

Aziz,  Sultan  Abdul,  kept  in  the  cage  of  the 
Seraglio  of  Stamboul,  288 ;  going  to  pray- 
er, 299. 

Baal,  scene  of  Elijah's  victory  over  the 
priests  of,  152  ;  Mammon  the  modern, 
153;  Temple  of,  at  Ba'albek,  168. 

Ba'albek,  road  to,  161 ;  journey  to,  164 ; 
arrival  at,  165  ;  hke  the  well-known  pic- 
ture of,  166 ;  sweetness  of  waters  of,  167  ; 
no  record  of,  preserved,  1G8 ;  ruins  of, 
grander  than  represented,  168 ;  antici- 
pated Gothic  genius,  168 ;  suggested  Sar- 
acenic invention,  168;  splendid  sunset 
from ,  169 ;  seen  by  moonlight,  170  ;  brutal 
Moslem  procession  at,  170  ;  view  of  Leb- 
anon from,  171. 

Bacchus  and  Hercules,  fabled  exploits  of, 
in  Ephesus,  261. 

Backsheesh,  cry  of,  20 ;  to  propitiate  the 
Prophet  59;  plot  of  sheykhs  to  secur«, 
111 ;  clamor  for,  112 ;  not  importuned  for, 
in  Zahleh,  164 ;  expectation  of,  in  Damas- 
cus, 187  ;  one  official  who  refused,  268. 

Bagdad,  way  to,  211 ;  magnificence  of  the 
califs  of,  287. 

Baggage  as  well  as  passengers  all  carried  on 
backs  of  beasts  of  burden  in  the  East,  19. 

Balaklava,  nameless  dead  of,  buried  at  Scu- 
tari, 308. 

Barley,  large  patches  of,  13. 

Bar-Jesus,  place  of  Paul's  encounter  with 
the  sorcerer,  231. 

Bathsheba,  wife  of  Uriah,  first  seen  by 
David,  ^;  Pool  of,  aS. 

Bay  of  Naples,  Sea  of  Marmora  contrast  of, 
307. 

Bazaars  at  .Terusalem,  dark  and  grave-like, 
44  ;  of  Stamboul,  keepers  of,  a  study,  282. 

Bebek,  visit  to,  297,  298. 

Bedawee  iticks  to  his  word  when  better 
to  keep  than  break  it,  87  ;  savage  appear- 


ance of,  89 ;  intrusion  of,  upon  camp, 
111 ;  lofty  conduct  of,  115  ;  lost  ideal  of 
nobleness  of,  116 ;  camps  of  the,  129. 

Beggars,  Moslem,  the  worst,  74, 170. 

Beginnings  of  our  era,  261. 

Beicos,  straggling  village  of,  312. 

Belgrade,  sacred  forest  of,  unprofened  by 
an  axe,  314. 

Bells,  fondness  of  Cyprians  for,  232. 

Benjamin  and  Judah,  boundaries  between 
territory  of,  19. 

Benjamin,  tribe  of,  left-handed,  43 ;  ancient 
bad,  but  modern  worse,  43. 

Berduny,  gorge  of  the,  162. 

Beshiktash,  palace  of,  278 ;  visit  to,  298 ; 
crowds  at,  to  see  Sultan  go  to  prayer,  299  ; 
a  strange  religious  excitement,  300 ;  Jason 
landed  at,  310. 

Bethany,  Christ's  ascension  from,  76 ;  a 
squaUd  hamlet,  77 ;  fine  prospect  from, 
77 ;  tomb  of  Lazarus  at,  77. 

Bethesda,  disputed  location  of  Pool  oS,  66 ; 
Pool  of  Siloam  thought  to  be  the  same 
as,  67. 

Bethlehem,  description  of,  117 ;  now,  as 
always,  a  Christian  town,  117 ;  hostility 
of,  to  the  Moslems,  117  ;  beauty  and  vir- 
tue of  women  of,  117  ;  industry  and  self- 
respect  of  men  of,  117  ;  name  of,  sweetest 
of  aU  words,  118  ;  scene  of  Ruth'S  story 
and  David's  consecration,  118 ;  moun- 
tainous approaches  to,  118 ;  "  plains  "  of, 
a  myth,  118;  cleaner  than  Jerusalem, 
but  more  commercial,  120 ;  entertain- 
ment at,  121. 

Beyezid  II.,  mosque  of  Sultan,  282. 

Beyrout,  approach  to,  158 ;  American  mis- 
sion and  college  at,  158,  214 ;  return  to, 
from  Damascus  like  coming  back  to  the 
world,  214  ;  bounteous  land  of  silk  and 
wine,  214  ;  former  as  well  as  present  seat 
of-leaming,  216. 

Bible,  the  best  guide-book  to  the  Holy 
Land,  31. 

Big  Sheykh,  like  Big  Injun,  114. 

Bigotry,  relaxation  of,  in  the  East,  331. 

Boaz,  sweet  associations  of  the  land  of,  121. 

Boeotia,  sailing  near,  335. 

Bois  de  Boulogne  of  the  Bosphorus,  304. 

Boolgoorloo,  ascent  of  the,  307. 

Bosphorus,  palaces  of  the,  286,  307;  first 
bewildering  sail  on  the,  297;  sea  and 
shore  of,  a  scene  of  crowded  life,  297  ; 
gay  scene  on  shore  of,  304  ;  scene  of  mag- 
ical beauty  on,  305  ;  gorgeous  sunset  on, 
306  ;  a  river  of  lapis  lazuli  lined  with 
marble  palaces,  310. 

Boudroum,  view  of,  250 ;  its  fortress  wrested 
from  Knights  of  St.  John,  250  ;  birthplace 
of  Herodotus  and  Dion}  sius,  250. 

Bouillon,  Godfrey  de,  fir.'t  king  of  Jerusa- 
lem, sword  of,  51 ;  Duchesse  de,  a  fortu- 
nate woman  who  enjoys  the  glory  of  the 
dead  wliile  receiving  the  homage  of  the 
living,  76. 

Brigands  formerly  infested  Mt.  Pentelious, 
368  ;  capture  of  Englishmen  by,  358. 

Brook  Kidron,  62,  128. 


378 


INDEX. 


Broussa,  first  capital  of  the  Osman  dynasty, 
307 ;  famed  for  its  gauzy  silk,  307. 

Brushwood,  women  loaded  with,  but  cov- 
ered with  ornaments,  20. 

Bubastis,  scene  on  Bosphorus  like  ancient 
fete  of,  304. 

Buckle,  Henry  T.,  burial-place  of,  near  Da- 
mascus, 192. 

BukSi'a,  fertile  plain  of,  164  ;  brilliant  view 
from,  165  ;  gay  colors  of,  174. 

Buyukdereh,  summer  resort  of  foreign  resi- 
dents of  Constantinople,  314  ;  ferried  to, 
by  an  aged  Greek  boatman,  316;  near 
being  our  last  voyage,  315. 

Byron's  swim  to  fame,  274. 

Byzantine  architecture,  252  ;  more  remains 
of,  in  Salonica  than  in  any  other  place 
except  Constantinople,  329  ;  paintings  in 
Salouica,  331 ;  church  in  Athens,  340. 

Byzantine  Empire  survived  a  thousand 
years  in  effeminate  luxury,  316 ;  present 
dissoluteness  of  the  Turks  no  warrant 
for  its  speedy  dissolution,  316;  a  power 
strong  enough  to  expel  the  Turks  and 
unite  the  Greeks  required  for  the  refor- 
mation, 317. 

Byzantine  rule,  corruption  of,  235  ;  cruelty 
and  treachery  of,  287. 

Byzantium,  factions  of,  more  licentious  than 
those  of  Home,  294. 

Cacelino  of  hens,  talk  of  some  Greek  women 

like,  353. 
Caiaphas,  house  of,  38. 
Caique,  a  tottUsh  water-craft,  281 ;  Sultan 

going  to  prayer  in  his  carved  and  gilded, 

an. 

Cairo,  a  "  miserable  hole,"  206 ;  bazaars  of, 
have  more  antique  treasures  than  those 
of  Constantinople,  281. 

Caligula,  exploits  of,  295. 

Calla-lily,  black,  18,  150 

Calvary,  site  of,  29;  Christ's  passage  from 
Pilate's  Hall  of  Judgment  to,  33. 

Canaanite^,  coast  of  the,  never  subdued  by 
the  Jews,  154;  a  literary  people  before 
Joshua's  time,  155 ;  language  nearly 
like  the  Hebrew,  155  ;  ancient  worlis  of, 
at  Ba'albek,  167. 

Canterbury,  Pilgrims  of,  the  way  to  Jeru- 
salem a  vivid  picture  of,  19. 
•  Carob-tree,  prodigal  son  supposed  to  have 
fed  upon  its  husks,  13. 

Carniel,  Mt.,  regret  at  not  visiting,  148; 
under  shadow  of,  152 ;  scene  of  Elijah's 
prayer  for  rain,  152. 

Carmelite  nuns,  convent  for,  77. 

Carpa.ssa,  ancient  city  of  Cyprus,  236. 

Caryatides  in  the  Erechtheum,  347. 

Ca.«eneiiu,  the  French  conjurer,  his  tricks 
with  cards,  271. 

Ca.«siiis  destroys  him.self  at  Philippi,  326. 

Caucasus,  our  race  has  attained  the  most 
perfect  form  in,  314;  formerly  renowned 
for  men  of  valor  as  well  as  for  women  of 
beauty ,  314  ;  raising  inmates  for  Turkish 
harems,  31.''). 

Cemeteries,  of  Jerusalem,  barren  and  strswn 


with  broken  stones,  39 ;  used  for  inter- 
ments three  thousand  years,  39;  our 
guide  gives  a  living  interest  to,  39  ;  shut 
in  by  high  walls,  40  ;  musings  in,  40  ;  of 
Damascus,  burial  of  celebrated  persons 
in,  192. 

Cemetery  of  Scutari,  description  of,  308 ; 
queer  headstones  of,  308. 

Cenchreae,  place  where  Paul  shaved  his 
head,  366. 

Centaurs,  horsemanship  of  the  Thessalians 
gave  rise  to  the  fable  of  the,  333. 

Ceres,  Temple  of,  still  under  the  clod,  353  ; 
a,  delicate  hand  from  the  ruins  of,  354 ; 
myths  of,  354. 

Cesnola,  General  di,  collection  of  antiques 
by,  81,  233;  presentation  of  credentials 
to,  230  ;  sketch  of,  235  ;  difficulty  of  his 
researches,  236. 

Chalce,  island  of,  249. 

Chalcedon,  ancient,  276,  277;  repassing 
shore  of,  324. 

Chalcis,  an  old  city  once  occupied  by  Herod, 
unknown  origin  of,  173. 

Chalkis,  site  of  ancient,  336. 

Chanak-Kalesi,  on  the  Dardanelles,  the 
great  Asiatic  entrepot,  273 ;  barbarous 
pottery  of,  seen  all  over  the  East,  274 ; 
hideous  designs  on,  274  ;  Castle  of  Asia 
at,  324. 

Changes  of  the  world  due  to  the  impatience 
of  monotony  of  women,  327. 

Chapel  of  the  Nativity,  124. 

Chemosh,  temple  to,  62. 

Cherith,  the  Brook,  flows  through  a  re- 
markable canon,  95 ;  difficulty  of  ford- 
ing, 97. 

Chersonesus,  the  ancient,  274. 

Chibouk,  the  pipe  of  Egypt,  181. 

Cliildren,  of  Israel,  first  camp  of,  at  Gilgal, 
98  ;  beautiful,  of  Dauia.<cus,  19o,  198. 

Chios,  birthplace  of  Homer,  252. 

Chittim,  Paul's  visit  to  isle  of,  231. 

Christ,  prison  of,  38. 

Christian  Church,  simple  worship  of,  con- 
trasted with  the  elaborate  Greek  ritual 
or  repetitions  of  Moslem  prayers,  309. 

Christianity,  Western,  missionaries  of,  ex- 
erting a  controlling  influence  in  Syria, 
163. 

Christians,  slaughter  of,  in  Damascus  by 
Moslems  and  Druses,  183. 

Chrysostom,  church  of  St.  Sophia  burned 
by  party  of,  291. 

Church  edifices  of  the  East  uised  by  one  sect 
after  another,  330  ;  interior  harmony  of, 
destroyed  by  twisting  the  altars  round  to 
face  Mecca,  290,  331. 

Cicero  entertained  with  games  at  Ephesus, 
265  ;  exile  of,  passed  in  Salonica,  332. 

Circus  of  Constantinople,  an  arena  like  that 
of  Rome,  294. 

Citium,  Liizarus  Bishop  of,  230;  ancient 
site  of,  231  :  once  a  flourishing  city,  236. 

Citti,  Mosque  of,  old  and  veneratM  like 
those  of  Mecca  and  Jcru.salem,  231. 

Civilizing  influence  of  man  over  woman, 
325. 


INDEX. 


179 


Classic  coast,  245. 

Cleoetas,  3i6. 

Cleopatra,  cleaving  the  waters  skimmed  by 
her  purple  sails,  370. 

Clytemnestra,  fall  of  Troy  telegraphed  to, 
326. 

Cnidus,  Dorian  city  of,  249. 

Coenaculum,  site  of  Last  Supper,  40. 

Colchis,  Jason  on  his  way  from,  lands  at 
Beshiktash,  310 ;  fabulous  wealth  of, 
tempted  the  sea-robbers,  314. 

Colonus,  sacred  hill  of,  355. 

Colorado,  atmosphere  of  the  valley  of  the 
Jordan  Uke,  100. 

Colossus  of  Khodes  shaken  down  by  an 
earthquake,  246. 

Column  on  which  the  cock  crew  when  Peter 
denied  his  Lord,  38. 

Comfort,  not  a  characteristic  of  the  East, 
201. 

Concord  River,  Jordan  width  of  the,  but 
s^vifler,  104. 

Conessus,  burial-place  of  Ephesus,263,264. 

Constantine,  Arch  of,  331. 

Constantinople  covers  the  site  of  ancient 
Byzantium,  277;  European  customs  in, 
working  out  the  Oriental,  280 ;  dogs  an 
ugly  characteristic  of,  282 ;  unequalled 
situation  of,  299 ;  a  city  of  the  dead  and 
living,  303  ;  first  siege  of,  by  the  Arabs, 
305  ;  unrivalled  empress  of  cities,  307  ; 
its  iron-clads  and  fortresses  forbid  its  fall, 
308 :  one  of  the  dissolute  cities  of  the  world, 
316 ;  condition  of  society  worse  under 
Greek  rule,  316  ;  commerce  and  trade  of, 
largely  in  hands  of  foreigners,  317  ;  story 
of  a  beauty  of,  317  -  322 :  regretful  leaving 
of,  323. 

Consul,  Amerioan,  at  Beyrout,  in  bad  odor, 
216,  221  ;  hard  scratching  of,  to  live  at, 
217  ;  EngUsh  more  respected,  217,  221. 

Convent  of  Ramleh,  picture  of  Mother  and 
Child  in,  both  black,  17 ;  East  has  no 
prejudice  against  color,  17 ;  battles  of 
cross  and  crescent  once  seen  from  its 
walls,  17;  the  clash  of  arms  not  likely 
to  be  heard  here  again,  so  long  as  plun- 
dering pilgrims  is  more  profitable,  17. 

Cook's  pilgrims  at  Jaffa,  5  :  called  "  Cook- 
ies,'- 19  ;  at  Jerusalem,  46  ;  at  Beyrout, 
159  ;  at  Damascus,  208. 

Copper  coin,  Roman,  found  everywhere  in 
the  Orient,  169. 

Corfu,  work  in  gold  and  silver  from,  341; 
would  prefer  English  to  Greek  rule,  367  ; 
has  most  beautiful  situation  in  the  world, 
371. 

Corinth,  through  the  Gulf  of,  366,  368  ;  few 
ancient  remains  of,  367 ;  a  poor  tent- 
maker  keeps  its  name  aUve,  367. 

Comaro,  Queen  Catharine,  reign  of,  in  Cy- 
prus, 23-5. 

Corsican,  the  cruel  Uttle,  destroys  the  Alba- 
nians at  Jaffa,  12 ;  an  inexcusable  and 
dastardly  act,  13. 

Corydallus,  Mt.,  3-51. 

Costume  of  the  Grecian  islands,  324. 

Court  of  justice,  a  Turkish,  227,  228. 


Credulity  catered  to  by  finding  sacred  spots 
and  showing  sacred  relics,  51- 

Crescent  the  emblem  of  Byzantium  before 
the  Christian  era,  adopted  by  the  Os- 
manli,  291. 

Crimean  war,  English  cemetery  dedicated 
to  those  who  fell  in  the,  308. 

Croat,  brilliant  get-up  of  a,  311. 

Cross,  chapel  of  the  Elevation  of  the,  51. 

"  Crown  of  Thorns,"  shrubs  from  which 
plaited,  102. 

Crucifixion,  place  of,  50 ;  rent  made  in  rock 
by  earthquake  at  time  of,  51 ;  chapel  of 
the,  solemn  impressions  at,  52. 

Crusaders,  fortifications  built  by,  18  ;  tents 
of  the,  on  Mt.  Olivet,  02. 

Curium,  brought  to  hght  by  Cesnola,  238  ; 
researches  at,  239;  ancient  treasures  of, 
240. 

Cyanean  rocks  Jason  thought  floating  isl- 
ands or  sea  monsters,  314. 

Cyclades,  entering  the,  336. 

Cymon,  bones  of  The.'^eus  found  by,  335. 

Cyprians,  fondness  of,  for  bells,  232. 

Cyprus,  perfect  repose  of,  229  ;  adventures 
in,  231 ;  women  of,  232 ;  discovery  of 
Phoenician  usages  and  rehcs  in,  233 ; 
sketch  of,  234-240;  various  rulers  of, 
235  ;  savage  rule  of  Turks  in,  236  ;  mag- 
nificent  treasures  found  at,  239,  240. 

Cyril,  patriarch  of  Alexandria,  260  ;  his  par- 
ticipation  in  the  Council  of  Ephesus,260. 

Dasiasccs,  Gate  of,  69  ;  highway  to,  69  ;  St. 
John  of,  a  fiery  character,  132  ;  en  route 
to,  160 ;  trade  of,  between  Beyroutand  the 
Mediterranean,  174 ;  sudden  appearance 
of  domes  and  minarets  of,  176  ;  Dimitri's 
hotel  at,  177 ;  oldest  of  old  cities,  178 
pre.serves  its  ancient  appearance,  178 
founded  by  Uz ,  178 ;  dwelt  in  by  Abraham 
178  ;  has  outlived  aU  the  ancient  cities  of 
the  Orient,  179 ;  possessed  by  Babyloni- 
ans, Persians,  Greeks,  Romans,  Saracens, 
Christians,  and  Turks,  180;  mud-walls 
of,  180, 1S.3  ;  a  city  of  fountains  and  run- 
ning water,  180  ;  frogs  and  dogs  a  fea- 
ture of,  180  ;  smoking  chief  occupation  of, 
181 ;  bazaars  of,  182  ;  not  so  rich  as  those 
of  Cairo,  182,  193  ;  celebrated  gardens  of, 
desolate  by  day,  but  brilliant  by  night, 
184;  great  plane-tree  of,  185  ;  great  mosque 
of,  185;  Uke  a  rabbit-burrow,  188  ;  baths 
of,  188  ;  no  drays  or  carts  in,  196  ;  splen- 
did private  houses  of,  197  ;  built  about 
paved  courts,  198  ;  visit  to,  198  ;  hospita- 
ble reception  at,  199  ;  description  of,  200 ; 
no  respectable  American  would  live  in, 
207  •,  shaped  like  an  oval  dish  with  a  long 
handle,  211 ;  Straight  street  of,  crookeder 
than  in  time  of  Paul,  211 ;  view  of,  at  a 
distance  most  interesting,  211  :  life  in, 
212;  last  glimpse  of,  the  loveliest,  213. 

Dance  of  the  Bedaweens  by  the  Jordan,  111 ; 
women  worse  than  men  in,  112. 

Dandolo,  assault  of,  on  Seraglio  Point,  324. 

Daphne,  groves  of,  310  ;  Pass  of,  351,  355  j 
Monastery  of,  352. 


380 


INDEX. 


Darabouka,  dnH  drone  of  the,  332. 

Dardanelles,  through  the,  273  :  wonderful 
historic  water-street  of  all  nations,  274  ; 
may  yet  lead  the  way  to  European  pos- 
session of  Little  Asia,  275 ;  return 
through  the,  324. 

Darius,  satrapy  of,  234  :  place  of  his  cross- 
ing the  Bosphorus,  2&8. 

Darwishes,  performance  of  the  Tamiog, 
3fJ2  ;  description  of,  302. 

David,  a  guerilla,  21 ;  his  raid  on  the  Am- 
orites,  21. 

David,  Tower  of,  25,  32,  35  ;  tomb  of,  40 ; 
place  of  consecration,  118. 

Dead,  Little  Field  of  the,  on  the  BosphoruB, 
302. 

Dead  Sea,  seen  from  David's  Tower,  36 ; 
▼alley  of,  96;  descent  to,  101 ;  not  so  dead 
aa  represented,  10(3 ;  vegetation  about 
the,  KHJ ;  not  a  scene  of  desolation,  106  ; 
water  salt  and  bitter,  but  clear,  106  ;  too 
salt  for  !iuy  fish  but  codfish,  1U7  ;  buoy- 
ancy not  exaggerated,  107  ;  delightful 
swimming  in,  107 ;  depth  of,  below  Medi- 
terranean ,  107  :  no  appearance  of  fire  or 
bitumen  near,  107  ;  no  difficulty  in  mak- 
ing the  plain  of,  fertile,  1U8  ;  picture  of 
future  happiness  at,  108 ;  luxurious  lunch 
at,  108  ;  want  of  fresh  water  makes  trav- 
ellers move  on,  109. 

Death  never  so  ghastly  as  when  tricked  out 
with  jewelr>',  331. 

Deity  does  not  dwell  in  temples  made  with 
hands,  Paul's  grund  annunciation,  361. 

Delicious  azure  of  the  3^ean,  334. 

Delos,  religious  and  political  centre  of 
Greece,  336 ;  birthplace  of  Apollo  luid 
Artt"niis,  336. 

Delphi,  Temple  of,  295  ;  site  of,  now  a  small 
and  almost  deserted  rock,  336. 

Demetrius,  St  ,  exploits  of,  231. 

Democracy,  misfortune  a  great  teacher  of, 
203. 

Demosthenes  in  the  forum ,  347,  365. 

Description  of  the  Acropolis  at  .\then8,344. 

De.«ert,  young  prince  of  the.  111. 

Diamonds,  Damascus  women  blazing  with, 
199 ;  pride  of  exhibiting  thpmsclves  in, 
202. 

Diana,  sacred  Temple  of,  at  Ephesus,  261 ; 
statue  of,  ili.scoverod  in,  261. 

Differing  religions  inherit  without  shame 
the  churches  of  the  East,  330. 

Dionysius,  birthplace  of,  250. 

Disooverv  of  ancient  treasures  at  Cyprus  by 
Cesnola,  236-241. 

Dives,  hou.se  of,  34. 

Divine  Child,  place  of  birth  of,  118. 

Dogs  have  freedom  of  city  in  Stamboul,  as 
in  Danm.scus,  282. 

Dome  of  the  Hock,  65 :  of  the  Spirits,  Da- 
vid's judgment-seat,  59. 

Domes  of  .Stamboul,  splendor  of,  in  the 
sun.set,  2SG. 

Donkey,  the .Teruaalcm,  more  obstinate  than 
the  Cairo,  74  ;  contemptible  as  well  as 
contemptuous  boast,  74  ;  their  abu.s*>  here 
will  b«  set  to  their  account  hereafter,  109. 


Don  Quixote,  world  came  near  losing,  370. 

Dorcas,  house  of,  6. 

Doves,  protected  as  almost  sacred  in  Stam- 
boul, 282. 

Dragoman,  an  arsenal  of  arms,  19;  fierce 
and  important,  19:  information,  network, 
their  forte,  10<j ;  loquacity  of,  100  ;  quar- 
rel of,  in  Beyrout,  219  -  228. 

Druses,  capture  of  town  of  Zableh  by,  162  ; 
horrible  stories  of  the,  174  ;  all  things  to 
all  men,  175. 

Eagle,  race  for  a  feather  of,  103. 

East,  shiftlessness  and  unpunctuality  of 
the,  87. 

Ea.stem  Question  to  be  solTed  by  education, 
299. 

Eastern  women,  dumb  attitude  of,  187. 

Easy  to  be  good  in  Greece,  357. 

Ecce  llomo  arch,  where  Christ  stood  before 
the  populace,  34 

Echinades,  Don  John's  repulse  of  the'Otto- 
mans  near,  369. 

Education  to  work  the  transformation  of 
the  East,  317. 

Egj  ptian  ox  the  emblem  of  St.  Luke,  263. 

Elah,  valley  of,  22  ;  stone  from  brook  in, 
killed  Goliath, 22  ;  slings  from  grog-shop 
near  by  have  slain  more  than  David's,  22. 

Eleusinian  mysteries,  354. 

Eleusis,  34*;;  mysteries  of  Ceres  at,  361; 
Bay  of,  like  a  lovely  lake,  352 ;  village  of, 
352  ;  mischievous  children  of,  354. 

Elias,  chapel  of  St.,  in  Athens,  351. 

Elijah,  place  where  fed  by  the  ravens,  96  ; 
last  journey  of,  to  the  Jordan,  98;  ascent 
of,  into  heaven,  98;  search  for,  alter, 
99 :  scene  of  his  victory  over  priests  of 
Baal,  152  :  grotto  of,  153. 

English  school  at  Jerusalem,  41. 

Ephesus,  flying  visit  to,  258  ;  beauty  and 
thrift  of  country  about,  258;  St.  John 
came  to,  from  Patmos,  259  ;  Virgin  Mary 
and  Apostles  lived  at,  259  ;  Mary  Magda- 
lene and  St.  Timothy  buried  at,  259  ;  once 
a  city  of  churches,  2tJU  ;  fiimous  Council 
of,  260  ;  carried  like  a  Tammany  caucus, 
260  ;  turbulent  encounter  of  rival  (actions 
in,  261 ;  Temple  of  Dianaat.  oldest  on  rec- 
ord, 262  ;  cave  of  the  Seven  Sleepers  at, 
262  ;  Uttle  Theatre  of,  263  :  Gnat  Thea- 
tre of,  264  ;  desolation  of,  264  ;  the  gos- ' 
pel  proclaimed  from,  265. 

Erechtheum,  Ionic  columns  of  the,  345. 

Eresso,  Greek  women  preserve  the  type  of 
beauty  at,  270. 

Erinnyes,  the  avenging  Furies,  361. 

Erynianthe,  steamer,  passage  to  Jaffa  in,  1. 

Esilnu'lon,  plain  of.  148,  152. 

Es-Serat,  Mahomet's  dead-line,  perilous  paa- 
s-ige  of,  by  the  faithful,  63. 

Ethiopia,  black  Virgin  and  Child  of,  17. 

Eulxea,  i^enks  of,  834. 

Euripus,  3.35. 

Eutropius  the  eunuch  protected  by  Chry- 
sastom,  292. 

Euxine,  view  of,  from  Giant's  QnTe  Moun- 
tain, 314. 


INDEX. 


381 


Erangelists,  gold  covers  of  the  books  of  the, 

in  Church  of  St.  Sophia,  289. 
Eyoub,  cemetery  of,  305  ;  mosque  of,  where 

the  sultans  are  inaugurated,  305. 

Fair  of  Moses,  140  ;  of  St.  George,  232. 
Fasts,  New  England,  not  like  Exstem,  132. 
Fitimeh,  child  of  Ali  Mohammed,  buried  at 

Damascus,  192. 
Ferdinomd,  Jews  expelled  from  Spain  by,  43. 
Flavian,  primate  of  Constantinople,  tram- 
pled to  death  at  Council  of  Ephesus,  261. 
Floating  harem,  our  steamer  a,  311. 
Founder  of  Christianity ,  scenes  of  his  living 

presence  desecrated  by  shams,  149. 
Fountain  of  Elisha,  a  remarkable  pool,  110 ; 

rest  and  gossip  by,  110  ;  costume  of  Greek 

bathers  at,  110. 
Fountains  of  Damascos  are  basins,  not  jets 

of  water,  198. 
Franciscan  convent  in  Cyprus,  American 

benefactors  of,  231. 
Funeral,  Armenian  quarrel  over  a,  38. 
Funereal  art  gives  new  conception  of  Greek 

grace,  tenderness,  and  sensibiUty,  361. 
Fustanella,  a  Greek  in,  looks  like  a  lands- 

knecht  above  and  a  ballet-girl  below,  342. 

Gabbatha,   pavement    on    which    Christ, 

walked,  34. 
Galata,  a  part  of  Constantinople,  277,  307 ; 

glorious  view  from  the  Genoese  Tower  of, 

323. 
Galgam,  a  high-spirited,  115. 
Gahlee,  Sea  of,  96. 
GaUipoli,  276. 

Gardens  in  the  air  of  Damascus,  188. 
Gktsturi,  garden  of,  in  Corfu,  371. 
Gate  of  God  in  Damascus,  pilgrims  pass 

through,  to  Mecca,  211. 
Gath,  David  and  Saul  skirmishing  about, 

21. 
Gehenna,  the  blasted  gulf  of,  63. 
Genius,   the  deathless    spell  of,   gives  us 

intimations  of  immortality,  355. 
George,  St.,  exploits  of,  231;  church  of, 

231. 
Georgian  women  long  for  the  harem  as  a 

piece  of  good  fortune,  311. 
Gethsemane,  Garden  of,  62,  74 ;   touching 

associations  of,  78. 
Gettysburg,  nameless  dead  in  the  cemetery 

of,  like  those  sleeping  at  Scutari,  308. 
Geuksoo,  the  river,  kiosk  of  the  Sultan  on, 

the  finest  on  the  Bosphorus,  311. 
Giant's  Grave  Mountain,  view  of  the  entire 

length  of  the  Bosphorus  from,  314. 
Gibeon,  heights  of,  where  Joshua  worsted 

the  Amorites,  19. 
Gihon,  Pool  of,  35,  41. 
Gilgal,  first  camp  of  Jews  at,  98 ;  nastiest 

place  in  the  world,  101  ;  once  fertile  and 

flourishing,  102. 
Glorious  sunset  on  Mt.  Athos,  327. 
Glory  of  the  sea  and  sky  on  leaving  Con- 
stantinople, 324. 
Godfrey,  soldiers  of,  65  ;  greatness  of  their 

possesgioiis  and  wonder  of  their  works,  65. 


Golden  Horn,  impossible  navigation  of,  at 
night,  276  ;  Sweet  Waters  of  Europe  the 
inlet  to,  303  ;  thronged  bridges  and  count- 
less masts  of  the,  307. 

Golden  Gate  in  Solomon's  Porch,  impres- 
sive view  from,  61. 

Golgotha,  MU  of,  30,  51 ;  gloom  of  chapel 
of,  52. 

Qolgos,  site  of,  discovered  by  Cesnola,  237. 

Good-by  to  reader,  374. 

Gospel  first  proclaimed  from  Ephesus,  266. 

Grand  Canal  of  Venice,  pageants  on,  like 
those  of  the  Bosphorus,  305. 

Graveyard  festivals  a  peculiar  enjoyment 
of  the  Orientals,  302. 

"  Great  God  Pan  is  dead,"  371. 

Greece,  rudeness  of  printing  in,  341 ;  une- 
qualled mines  and  quarries  of,  342 ;  beat- 
ing her  pruning-hooks  into  spears,  344  ; 
composed  of  a  multitude  of  islands,  367. 

Greek  cross,  main  streets  of  Athens  cross 
each  other  like  a,  340. 

Greek  language  has  survived  the  Byzan- 
tine anarchy,  Slavonic  conquest,  and 
Frank  occupation,  343;  sharp  metallic 
sound  of,  353. 

Greeks,  fastest  talkers  in  the  world,  353 ; 
simplicity  and  nobility  of  the  domestic 
Ufe  of,  360. 

Gregory  Nazianzen  installed  upon  the  Epis- 
copal throne  by  Theodosius,  291. 

Grotto  of  the  Nativity,  early  record  of,  122 ; 
basilica  over,  oldest  remains  of  Christian 
architecture,  122. 

Gypsies,  Albanian,  description  of,  372. 

Hadrian,  statue  of,  once  stood  on  Mt.  Mo- 
riah,  56  ;  Arch  of,  343. 

Haifa,  German  colony  at,  11  ;  arrival  in 
harbor  of,  152  ;  description  of,  153. 

Halicamassus,  view  of  city  of,  250. 

"  Half  horse,  half  alligator,"  the  Kentuck- 
ian  phrase  sprung  from  fable  of  the  Cen- 
taurs, 334. 

Hannibal  conferred  with  Antiochus  at  Eph- 
esus, 265. 

Harem,  or  Temple  area,  54 ;  delightful 
place  to  dream  of  the  glory  of  the  past  in, 
54 ;  not  open  to  the  general  visitor,  54 ; 
an  authentic  historical  spot,  54  ;  English 
woman  in  a,  182  ;  visit  to  court  of  a,  198. 

Head-dress  of  Jewish  women  in  Salonica  a 
model  for  Americans,  329. 

Heavenly  Water,  vale  of  the,  298 ;  great 
place  of  resort,  303  ;  gay  voyage  to,  304  : 
loveliest  in  the  East,  and  foretaste  or 
Paradise,  312. 

Hebrew  nation,  its  modem  greater  than 
its  ancient  influence,  82. 

Hebron  Gate,  2S. 

Helena,  chapel  of,  50  ;  tomb  of,  70  ;  island 
of,  a36. 

HeUcon  and  Parnassus,  .367. 

Heliogabalus,  exploits  of,  in  arena  of  Stam- 
boul,  295. 

Hellespont  must  be  possessed  by  one  na- 
tion or  all,  275. 

Htracleom,  ancient,  332. 


382 


INDEX. 


Hermits,  their  holes  in  the  rocks,  95. 

Hermon.tsummit  of,  96  ;  pleasant  sight  of, 
109, 173. 

Hero,  scene  of  Leander's  swimming  exploit 
to  meet,  274. 

Herodotus,  birthplace  of,  250.  - 

Ue.spe rides ,  firuits  of  the,  expected  in  Colchis, 
314. 

Hezekiah,  Pool  of,  25,  28. 

Hieropolis,  visit  to  ancient  rains  of,  166. 

Highways,  no  traces  of  ancient,  23  ;  the 
roads  only  mule-tracks  the  travel  of  gener- 
ations has  made,  23  ;  the  present  road  to 
Jerusalem  laid  out  by  the  Sultan  for  the 
Empress  Eugenie,  but  left  in  the  rough, 
23;  not  well  to  have  a  "  way  beautiful," 
23 ;  length  of  journey  would  bo  lessened 
and  plunder  of  the  vagabonds  decreased, 
23. 

Hill,  Dr  ,  missionary  to  Greece,  344. 

Hill  of  Evil  Counsel,  68. 

Uinnom,  valley  of,  41,  68  ;  a  savage  gorge 
of  horrible  associations,  69. 

nippicus,  Tower  of,  35. 

Uippodrc^ne,  factions  of,  burned  Church  of 
St.  Sophia, 291 ;  mosque  of  Sultan  Ahmed 
on  sit«  of,  292  ;  arena  of,  still  kept 
open,  294  ;  most  fiiniou.i  siiuare  in  Stam- 
boul,  295  ;  pyramid  in,  erected  in  time  of 
Constantine,  295. 

Hiram  of  Tyre,  62  ;  aid  to  Solomon,  83  ; 
shrewd  bargainer,  155. 

UL'<t(irical  places  of  Judtea,  disenchantment 
of  seeing,  147. 

Ilittites,  conquest  of  Egypt  by,  166, 167. 

Holy  City  not  impressive  for  its  sweetness, 
26  ;  present  squalor  contrasted  with  past 
grandeur,  2*5 ;  lives  on  the  pilgrims  to, 
(1 ;  vast  crowd.i  to,  from  Ethiopia,  Sibe- 
ria, and  Asia  Minor,  72. 

Holy  Lund  rejoices  in  birds  of  beauty,  13 ; 
motives  thut  bring  people  to  the,  205,  208. 

Holy  places  in  Holy  Sepulchre,  list  of,  5.3. 

Holy  Sepulchre,  mother  and  boy  lone  pil- 
grims to,  17  ;  visits  to,  27-30. 

Home,  idea  of,  preserved  by  the  Greeks, 
368. 

Homer,  birthplace  of,  252 ;  a  day  with, 
among  the  Ionian  islands,  369;  the  ruler 
of  the  Grc<-ian  isles,  370. 

Honorius,  my  horse  like  Gibbon's  descrip- 
tion of  the  Emperor,  128. 

Hope  of  civilization  in  the  Blast,  374. 

Horns  that  blew  down  the  walls  of  Jericho, 
preservation  of,  290. 

Horse,  points  of  ray  Arab,  103. 

Horsemanship,  display  of  Bedaween,115; 
ecclesiastical,  128. 

Hotel  of  the  Twelve  Tril>es  outside  Jaffa 
occupied  by  Cook's  tribe,  5 ;  woful  look 
of  at  the  hard  Syrian  l)orses  given  them 
to  ride,  5. 

House  of  Priam,  discovery  of  treasures  of, 
2.39. 

Hudson  at  West  Point  resembles  the  Bos- 
phorus,  298. 

Hun-Kiar  Iskelesi,  private  residence  of  the 
sultans  in  the  Talley  of,  312. 


Hyde  Park  of  the  Bosphorus,  306- 
Hymettus,  338;   purple  robe  of,  341,  343; 

complete  view  of  Attic   territory  from, 

367. 

lB!i'  AsAgmt  historian  of  Damascus,  grave 
of,  192. 

Icaria,  scene  of  Dsedalus's  experiment  in 
aerial  navigation,  251. 

Idalium,  tombs  of,  opened  by  Cesnola  and 
discovery  of  ancient  pottery  in,  237. 

Ikos,  now  a  rabbit-warren,  334. 

Hissus,  valley  of  the,  340 ;  Temple  of  Jupi- 
ter overlooks  the,  343 ;  the  classic  stream 
a  dry  gully,  362. 

Ilium,  picturing  the  glories  of,  273. 

lllyriau  race,  .Albanians  belong  to  the,  336. 

Imbros  and  Lemnos,  passage  between,  325. 

Indians,  dance  of  the  Beda weens  like  that 
of  the,  112. 

Inkermann,  the  fallen  at,  sleep  in  the  ceme- 
tery at  Scutari,  308. 

Ionian  Islands,  among  the,  369. 

lonians,  ancient,  33'J,  369. 

Irene,  the  Empress,  account  of  her  cruelty 
and  punishment,  270 ;  church  of,  an  ane- 
nal,2S8. 

Isaiah ,  Tree  of,  where  the Jprophet  was  sawn 
asunder,  68. 

Iscariot,  blasted  tree  of,  69. 

Isis,  statue  of,  in  Mu.seum  at  Athens,  860. 

Islam,  description  of  the  chief  of,  302. 

Islands  of  the  Eastern  Mediterranean,  Turk- 
ish massacre  and  Greek  revenge  the  his- 
tory of,  317. 

Isles  of  the  Blest,  in  the  Sea  of  Marmora, 
enchanting  situation  of,  3()7. 

Israel,  kingdom  of,  42 ;  children  of,  45 ; 
extent  of  its  power,  82. 

Israelites,  resemblance  to  Scotch  Highland- 
ers, 83  ;  the  hills  their  strength,  83 ;  the 
acquisition  of  wealth  their  destruction, 
83 :  picture  of  their  habits  in  2d  Samuel, 
84;  barbarity  of,  84. 

lulls,  home  of  legends  and  poets,  336  :  pu- 
rity of  its  people  ascribed  to  flight  of  the 
nymphs  frightened  by  a  roaring  lion,  336. 

JiTV.K  existed  before  the  deluge,  2;  chief 
Mediterranean  port  of  Jerusalem,  2 ;  dan- 
gerous approach  to,  in  bad  weather,  2 ; 
Solomon  landed  his  Lebanon  timber  for 
the  temple  at,  2 ;  occupied  by  Saracen 
hosts  and  Crusaders,  2 ;  depot  of  supplies 
for  Venice,  Genoa,  and  other  rich  cities, 
during  Holy  War,  3 :  possessed  by  great 
kingilonis  and  conquerors  in  turn,  3  ;  for 
thousands  of  years  it-s  perilous  roadrtcad 
trusted  by  merchants,  3;  better  harlwr 
needed  before  regeneration  of  Palestine 
can  be  hoped  for,  3 ;  looks  from  the  sea 
like  a  brown  bowl  bottom  up,  3:  streets 
narrow  and  evil  smelling,  3;  pictures  of 
it  generally  correct,  3  ;  would  take  Jews 
along  time  to  return  by  this  difficult  way, 
4 ;  dangerous  for  delicate  women.  4 ;  gate 
at  which  the  mighty  of  the  past  have 
waited,  4 ;  embarkation  of  Jonah  from. 


INDEX. 


383 


has  given  it  world-wide  notoriety,  4 ;  ba- 
zaars and  fruit  market  of,  5  ;  Gate  of,  in 
Jerusalem,  35,  66,  74  ;  return  to,  and  de- 
parture from,  151. 

Janizaries,  costiunes  of  the,  288;  parade- 
grouad  of,  295  ;  destruction  of,  295 

Jason  landed  at  Beshiktash  on  his  voyage 
to  Colchis,  310, 

Jehoshaphat,  Talley  of,  62,  74 ;  cheerful 
associations  of,  68;  common  sewer  of 
Jerusalem,  68;  joumej-  through,  91. 

Jeremiah,  birthplace  of,  22 ;  hard  country 
cause  of  his  doleful  strain,  22 ;  cheerful 
words  of,  66 ;  cave  of,  70  ;  grotto  of,  where 
he  Uved  and  lamented,  now  a  donkey 
stable,  71. 

Jericho,  going  down  to,  87 ;  more  thieves 
than  good  Samaritans  to  be  found  there, 
87 ;  grand  cavalcade  for,  89 ;  made  up  of 
men  and  animals  of  all  kinds  and  coun- 
tries, 90 ;  road  to,  thronged  with  pilgrims, 
barefoot  and  in  all  sorts  of  outfits,  92 ; 
New  Testament  site  of,  not  the  one  cursed 
by  Joshua,  97  ;  walls  blown  down  by 
Joshua's  horns,  98  ;  a  hillock  and  Elisha's 
spring  only  remains  of,  99. 

Jerome,  cell  of,  visited  with  real  emotion, 
123 ;  Carpaccio's  painting  of,  124. 

Jerusalem,  rough  way  to,  11 ;  every  foot  of 
ground  consecrated  or  desecrated,  18 ; 
hills  terraced  for  vines  and  olives,  but 
few  growing,  20;  does  not  "burst"  on 
the  view,  24 ;  rough  rabble  pressing 
through  the  gates  of,  25 ;  streets  of, 
filthy  ditches,  26  ;  not  difficult  to  do,  31 ; 
school  for  girls  needed  in,  32;  squalor 
and  shabbiness  of,  33;  present  unchris- 
tian character  of,  79  ;  a  city  of  humbugs, 
80  ;  songs  and  stories  of  its  prophets  and 
poets  draw  the  world  to  it,  86 ;  renowned 
for  literature  as  Athens  for  art,  86 ;  not 
valued  by  the  ancients  as  by  the  moderns, 
86 ;  sacred  for  its  precious  memories,  86 ; 
stirring  scenes  outside  the  walls  of,  144 ; 
final  leave  of,  147 ;  buried  beneath  the 
rubbish  of  creduUty  and  superstition,  148: 
would  have  been  better  for  living  Chris- 
tianity if  it  had  shared  the  fate  of  Car- 
thage, Memphis,  and  Tadmor,  149. 

Jessup,  Dr.,  of  Beyrout,  162,  215. 

Jesus  expected  to  descend  upon  Church  of 
John  the  Baptist  in  Damascus,  187. 

Jews,  movement  of,  towards  repeopling  the 
Holy  Land,  11 ;  could  be  better  provided 
for  away  from  Jerusalem,  42 ;  filthy  quar- 
ter of,  42 ;  fair  skin  and  hght  hair  the 
original  type  of,  42 ;  present  debased  ap- 
pearance of,  43 ;  wailing  of,  43 ;  extent  of 
country  of,  82;  history  of,  84;  gross 
idolatries  of,  85 ;  their  literature  their 
chief  hold  on  the  world,  86 ;  settled  in  the 
Delta  of  the  Nile,  179  ;  wandering  of,  im- 
proves the  race,  329. 

Jezebel,  power  of  the  Princess,  154. 

Jezreel ,  148. 

Joab,  weU  of,  68. 

Johnston,  John  Taylor,  Cesnola's  first  col- 
lection Bold  to,  237. 


John  the  Baptist,  where  bom,  22;  Church 
of,  in  Damascus,  flocked  to  by  all,  187; 
rivals  temples  of  Ba'albek  and  Palmyra, 
186. 

Jonah,  place  of  the  whale-s  casting  up,  159. 

Jordan,  place  of  passage  of,  by  the  Israel- 
ites, 96  ;  crossing  the,  101 ;  muddy  banks, 
but  swift  stream,  104;  sacred  to  think 
of,  but  dirty  to  look  at,  104 ;  a  shivering 
bather  in,  105. 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,  tomb  of,  47. 

Josephus,  his  account  of  Jonah,  4  ;  account 
of  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  33. 

Joshua,  spot  where  he  commanded  the 
moon  to  stand  still,  19  ;  grave  of,  313. 

Journey  over,  its  disagreeables  forgotten, 
and  longing  to  go  over  it  again,  374. 

Jove,  Olympian,  332. 

Judaea,  blue  hills  of,  12 ;  thrilling  sensa- 
tion of  seeing,  12 ;  clear  atmosphere  of, 
103 ;  Fair  of  Moses  in  wilderness  of,  brings 
out  a  rough  rabble,  140,  141. 

Judah,  tomb  of  kings  of,  supposed  to  shine 
with  splendor  and  riches,  40 ;  no  one  per- 
mitted to  enter,  40  ;  kingdom  of,  83. 

Judas,  gaUows-tree  of,  69. 

Jupiter,  Temple  of,  at  Ba'albek  larger  than 
the  Parthenon,  168;  at  entrance  to  the 
Bosphorus,  314;  in  Athens,  343. 

Justinian,  Church  of  St.  Mary  built  by,  56. 

Kalamaki,  landing  at,  366. 

Kalyminos,  island  of,  250. 

Kandili,  beautiful  situation  of,  311 ;  pros- 
pect of  two  continents  from,  311 . 

Kamak,  ruins  of,  not  so  grand  as  those  of 
Ba'albek,  170. 

KawJss,  taken  about  Cyprus  by  General  Ces- 
nola's, 230. 

Keleos  girls  now,  as  of  old,  filling  their  pails 
at  the  well,  363. 

Kentucky,  meeting  with  tourists  from,  99. 

Keos,  famous  for  its  decree  that  all  over 
sixty  should  die,  336. 

Kephisia,  a  summer  resort  as  of  old,  357. 

Kephissus,  olive -orchards  of,  351 ;  rivulet 
of,  355. 

Kerah  Nun,  burial-place  of  Noah,  164. 

Keramicus,  the  ancient  cemetery  of  Athens, 
new  excavations  at,  340 ;  touching  posi- 
tion of  figures  found  in,  360. 

Kerata,  double  peaks  of  Mt.,  354. 

Ketmehr,  the  wise  dog  of  the  Koran,  262. 

Khuled,  the  Sword  of  God,  186. 

Khan,  lunch  at  a  mountain,  165. 

Khedive  of  Egypt,  311 ;  palace  given  to  the 
Sultan  by  the,  312. 

Khilid-bahri,  on  European  shore  of  the 
Dardanelles,  273. 

Kidron,  vaUey  of,  66, 127. 

Kings,  Tombs  of  the,  70;  ingenious  door 
of,  70  ;  inferior'to  tombs  of  Egypt,  70. 

Kiijath-Jearim,  pleasing  name,  21. 

Kishon,  the  river  where  Elijah  slew  the 
prophets  of  Baal,  153. 

Kissing,  stones  worn  by,  30,  45. 

Kithraeon,  pass  of,  352,  354. 

Korais,  statue  of,  in  Athens,  349. 


384 


INDEX. 


Koroo  Chesmeb,  laurel-tree  at,  planted  by 
Medea,  310. 

Kos,  birthplace  of  Apelles  and  of  Hippocra- 
tes, 249. 

Kury,  located  by  Cesnola,  238. 

Kyle,  Miss,  obliged  by  the  bigots  to  close 
her  Protestant  school  in  Athens,  319. 

Lake  Como,  Bay  of  Buyukdereh  like,  315. 
Laniartine,  his  residence  on  Mt.  Lebanon, 

IGl. 
Lamentations  read  at  Jewish  wailing-place, 

45. 
Larnaka,  harbor  of,  229;  excavations  at, 

231. 
Laurel-grove  at  Athens,  no  trace  of,  351. 
Lazarus,  stone  sat  on  by ,  34 ;  tomb  of,  77 ; 

Church  of  St  ,  in  Cyprus,  ^  ;  Bishop  of 

Citium,230. 
Leander,  scene  of  his  swimming  feat,  274. 
Lebanon,  mountains  of,  seen  from  the  coast, 

153,  158  ;  a.went  of,  liJO  ;  glories  of,  16L 
I^dra,  necropolis  of,  found  by  Cesnola,  237. 
Lemnos,  beauty   of  first   women   of,  325 ; 

killed    their    husbands    and   set  up  an 

Amiaonian  stjite,  325 ;  sunset  view  of,327. 
Ijopanto,  Uny  of,  308. 
Lepers,  loathsome  encounter  with,  44. 
Leros,  isle  of,  250 
Lesbos,  source  of  lyric  poetry,  268;  home 

of  Alcjvus  and  Sappho,  208. 
"  Leucodia's  far-projecting  rock  of  woe," 

370. 
LeucoUa  traced  out  by  Cesnola,  238. 
Levant,  Gate  of  the,  04  ;  hard  fare  of  the 

peasantry  of  the,  230 ;  leaven  of  change 

working;  in,  317. 
Life  more  important  than  creed,  143. 
Lion,  oolo.s.'<ai  ima);e  of,  at  Keos,  336. 
I^ipso,  isliind  of,  250. 
Litiny  River,  162,  173. 
Lombardy,  iron  crown  of,  has  nail  of  the 

cross  in,  54. 
lx)ngin);  look  hack  to  the  East,  374. 
Lord  Hymn  swimming  the  Hellespont,  274  ; 

deatli  of,  at  MissulonRhi,  317. 
Lord  Elfiin  ha-s  gathered  every  scrap  of  an- 
tique marble,  leaving  none  to  tourists, 365. 
Lord's  I'rayer,  place  where  Christ  gJive  his 

disciples  the,  76;  chajK-l  on,  76;  iu  "Ca- 

n.adian  "  language,  76. 
Luke,  St.,  remains  of,  removed  to  Church 

of  St.  Sophia,  291. 
Lusi;;iuin  dynasty,  230,  235. 
Luxuries,  nios(iues,  baths,  and  cemeteries 

the  three  great  Oriental,  306. 
Luxury,  not  comfort,  of  Eastern  homes,  201. 
Lyoabettus,    singular    cone    of,   340,  356; 

marvellous  view  from,  356 ;  souorous  call 

to  prayer  frnui,  357. 
Lycia,  coast  of,  244  ;  metropolis  of,  246. 
Lycian  moimtiins,  glorious  sunset  on,  244. 
Ly  oius,  Phidias,  I'r.ixitplps.ricri't.is,  Myron, 

contr.^-^t  ot  their  time  with  our  time,  346. 
Lycomedcs,  .\cliilles  hides  in  garden  of,  335. 
Lysander,   like   uU   the  notabilities  of  his 

time,  souglit  Ephesus  for  its  varied  at- 
tractions, 265. 


Maccabees,  old  fortifications  of,  18. 

Miulonnas,  living,  at  Damascus,  199. 

Maeander,  the  tortuous,  region  about  it  a 
garden,  258. 

Magnesia,  peninsula  of,  333. 

Maids  of  Athens,  few  in  the  streets  whoss 
beauty  poets  would  celebrate,  342. 

Malaria  has  followed  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  332. 

Maliacus,  Bay  of,  331. 

Malta,  Knights  of,  give  interest  to  the  Gate 
of  the  Levant,  65. 

Manuscripts,  purchase  of  ancient,  from 
Abyssinian  pilgrims,  113. 

March  Um  eajly  for  travelling  in  Syria,  31. 

Mark  Twain,  his  guide-book  to  the  Holy 
Land,  208. 

Marathon,  figure  of  Minerva  Proraachus 
cast  by  Phidias  out  of  the  spoils  of,  346 ; 
the  field  of,  only  a  small  field  of  a  few 
miles  square,  359;  want  of  room  to  ma- 
noeuvre explains  the  defeat  of  the  Per- 
sians, 359. 

Marium,  necropolis  of,  laid  open  by  Ces- 
nola, 238. 

Marmora,  Sea  of,  the  "  vexed  Propontis," 
275 ;  island  of,  276 ;  like  Bay  of  Naples, 
307;  like  New  York  Bay,  307;  contains 
the  Isles  of  the  Blest,  307. 

Maronites  on  Mt.  Lebanon,  162,  174. 

Mar  Saba,  convent  of,  12*3 ;  clinging  like 
wasiKs'  nests  to  the  rock,  129  ;  main  tower 
of  like  a  fortress,  130;  guarded  to  keep 
Bedaweens  and  women  out,  130;  last  re- 
treat on  earth  of  men,  130;  prospect  of 
hard  fare  at,  131 ;  ghastly  charnel-house 
of,  132  ;  filled  with  birds  and  pilgrims, 
133 ;  tumult  of  midnight  call  to  prayer 
in,  135;  a  revelry  by  night,  136;  and 
hurrying  to  and  fro,  137;  mementos 
from,  138. 

Mars  Hill,  315;  Paul's  preaching  at,  361. 

Martineau,  Harriet,  reason  of  exclusion  of, 
from  convent  of  Mar  Saba,  130. 

Mary,  tomb  of,  <j2. 

."Mary  and  Martha,  house  of,  at  Bethany,  77. 

.Matu-rhorn,  Mt  Athos  resembles  the.  334> 

Mausolus,  Tomb  of,  at  Boudroum,  250. 

Mecca,  Kajiba  at,  48  ;  pilgrims  to,  fewer  than 
to  .lerU'ialem,  71  ;  rude  pictures  of,  331. 

Medea,  laurel-tree  planted  by,  310. 

Mediterranean  Hotel,  view  from,  26. 

Me.|jel,  village  of,  173. 

Megara,  heighU  of,  352,  356. 

Mebemet  Pasha,  strange  adventures  of  the 
wife  of  the,  319,  320. 

Melchizedek,  tomb  of,  51. 

Mele-f,  the  river,  258. 

Men  of  .\tliens  noble  in  form  and  intelli- 
gent of  fare,  342. 

Messiah,  birthplace  of  the,  122. 

MetAwileh.  Moslem  sect  of.  165. 

Methodist,  a  primitive,  208. 

Metropolitan  Museum  of  Now  York,  Ces. 
nola's  collection  chief  attraction  of,  233- 
2;?J. 

Michael,  the  angel,  print  of  hand  of,  in  tb* 
Sacred  Kock,  68. 


INDEX. 


385 


Middle  Ages,  customs  of,  maintained  by  the 
Greek  clergy  on  Mt.  Athos,  326. 

Miletus,  remains  of,  251. 

Milk  Grotto,  mothers  resort  to,  for  increase 
of  milk,  125. 

Minerva  Promachus,  figure  of,  346;  gold- 
ivory  statue  of,  316. 

Missionaries,  respect  for  American,  at  Bey- 
rout,  162  ;  great  good  accomplished  by 
the  schools  of,  183  ;  noble  self-exiles,  183 ; 
great  influence  of,  215. 

Mississippi,  the  llissus  imagined  as  large  as, 
but  only  a  dry  guUy,  362. 

Missolonghi,  no  glimpse  of,  369. 

Mitylene,  the  ancient  Lesbos,  267  ;  like  Cas- 
teUamare  or  Sorrento,  268. 

Moab,  view  of  mountains  of,  36,  61. 

Moawyeh,  founder  of  dynasty  of  Omeiyades, 
192. 

Mohammed,  footprint  of,  in  the  Sacred 
Rock,  58 ;  reUgion  of,  the  oldest,  140. 

Moloch,  image  of,  62;  an  ingenious  con- 
trivance of  cruelty,  69. 

Monks,  their  love  of  flowers  an  expression 
of  tenderness  for  the  sex,  231. 

Montefiore,  Sir  Moses,  the  rich  Jew,  build- 
ings erected  by,  in  Jerusalem,  41. 

Moorad,  Sultan,  Saracenic  kiosk  of,  286; 
unrea4  library  of,  286. 

Morea,  descendants  of  the  ancient  Greeks 
found  in,  343  ;  snowy  hiUs  of,  seen  firom 
Gulf  of  Corinth,  367. 

Moses,  Fair  of,  140 ;  preparation  for,  like 
Fourth  of  July,  140. 

Moslem  wailers,  dry  grief  of,  120 ;  ridden 
over  by  sheykhs,  170. 

Moslems,  pertinacious  beggars,  74. 

Mosque  of  Kubbet-es-Sukhrah  most  beau- 
tiful in  the  world,  56;  a  blaze  of  color, 
57 ;  touch-stone  of  the  elect  in,  59 ;  of 
Aksa,  56;  print  of  Christ's  foot  in,  59; 
of  Omar,  59  ;  of  Jesus,  stone  cradle  of  the 
infant  Saviour  in,  60;  of  St.  Sophia  in 
Salonica,  mosaic  of  the  Transfiguration 
in,  329  ;  verd-antique  pulpit  in,  from 
which  St.  Paul  preached,  329. 

Mother  and  Child,  concealment  of,  in  the 
Milk  Grotto,  125. 

Mother-in-law,  wisdom  of  Ruth's,  122. 

Mothers  of  heroes  well  formed,  353. 

Mount  Chimaera,  wonderful  Ught  of,  244. 

Mount  Moriah,  45  ;  Scopus,  61 ;  OUvet,  61. 

Mu'aUakah,  plain  of,  162, 164. 

Muezzin,  call  to  prayer  of,  in  Jaffa,  17  ;  in 
Damascu.s,  213. 

Muristan,  a  field  of  romance,  65  ;  site  of  the 
hospital  church  of  the  Knights  of  St. 
Jolm,  65. 

Music  of  the  East  anything  but  music,  332. 

Naaman  the  Syrian,  place  where  healed,  99. 

Napoleon,  selfish  and  small  nature  of,  12. 

Narghileh,  Arabs  smoking,  176  ;  universal 
use  of,  in  Damascus,  181. 

Kations,  the  life  of,  preserved  by  progress, 
not  by  attempts  to  make  dead  forms  Uve 
again,  363 ;  a  pitiful  sight  without  ideals. 


Nativity,  place  of  the,  117 ;  crypt  of,  121 ; 
columns  of  Church  of,  taken  from  Solo- 
mon's Temple,  122 ;  place  of  burial  of 
twenty  thousand  children  massacred  by 
Herod,  123. 

Nature  herself  despoiled  by  the  Turks,  333. 

Navarino,  battle  of  the,  end  of  a  glorious 
struggle  for  independence,  363. 

Nebo,  Mt.,  100. 

Negropont,  Venetian  sovereignty  over,  335  ; 
name  of,  made  odious  by  the  Turks,  335  ; 
gradually  attracting  commerce  and  capi- 
tal, 335. 

Nero,  his  proposition  to  cut  a  canal  across 
the  Peloponnesus  feasible,  366. 

Nestorius,  his  struggle  with  Cjrril  in  the 
Council  of  Ephesus,  260. 

New  England,  rugged  surroundings'of  Beth- 
lehem Uke,  118. 

New  York  Bay  like  Sea  of  Marmora,  307. 

Nicene  Creed  proclaimed  by  Theodosius, 
292. 

Nicodemus,  tomb  of,  47. 

Nightingale,  Florence,  visit  to  the  great  hos- 
pital controlled  by,  309 ;  Turkish  wonder 
that  America  should  care  for  her,  309. 

Nightingales  singing  on  bank  of  the  Bos- 
phorus,  298  ;  in  gardens  of  Athens,  351. 

Nile,  Temple  of  the  Sun  on  the,  168. 

Nisyros,  going  by,  249. 

Nubia,  people  of,  not  so^barbarous  as  Mos- 
lem wailers,  119  ;  blue  sky  of,  170. 

Nursing-bottle,  fear  for  a,  278. 

Nut-brown  maids  of  Athens,  sweet  classic 
models,  353. 

Occident,  trade  in  the  vices  of  the,  304. 

(Edipus,  scene  of  death  of,  355. 

(Eta,  Mt.,  Thermopylae  at  foot  of,  334. 

OUve  grove,  two  thousand  feet  up,  lunch 
in,  20  ;  David's  enjoyment  of  the  view  of 
the  valley  of  the  Mediterranean  from,  21 ; 
ugly  old  trees  the  five  kings  may  have 
been  hanged  on,  21. 

OUves,  Mount  of,  25,  a3,  56,  61 ;  wretched 
view  of  worn-out  land  from,  62  ;  its  rural 
sweetness  and  seclusion  gone,  74 ;  a 
shabby  show-place  of  filthy  buildings 
and  beggars,  75  ;  view  of  the  Jordan  val- 
ley. Dead  Sea,  and  mountains  of  Moab 
from,  75  ;  no  spot  for  rest  or  quiet,  75; 
reading  life  of  the  Saviour  on,  75  ;  tender 
memories  of,  76. 

Olive-trees,  first  appearance  of,  13 ;  last 
sight  of,  372. 

Olympicum  in  Athens,  one  of  the  most 
stately  buildings  of  the  ancients,  343. 

Olympus,  snowy  summit  of,  307,  324,  332. 

Omar,  minaret  to,  65. 

Omeiyades,  dynasty  of  the,  180. 

Ophel,  32  ;  rocks  of,  source  of  Fountain  of 
the  Virgin,  66 ;  an  intermittent  spring, 
thought  to  be  the  real  Pool  of  Bethes- 
da,  67. 

Oranges  at  Jaffa  big  as  ostrich  eggs,  but  all 
peel,  5,  206. 

Orient,  Damascus  chief  city  of,  182  ;  art  in 
the,  201 ;  specimen  of  travellers  in,  205; 


386 


INDEX. 


music  of  the,  plaintive  and  untrained, 

304  ;  trade  in  the  secrets  of  the,  304  ;  the 

land  of  the  imagination,  374. 
Oriental     travellers,     their     imaginations 

stronger  than  their  memories,  210. 
Oman,  threshing-floor  of,  site  of  the  Sacred 

Ilock,  55. 
Ortakeui,  Sultan  goes  to  pray  in  mosque 

of,  300. 
Osmanli  adopt  the  Byzantine  emblem  of  the 

crescent,  291. 
Ossa,  Mt.,  331 ;  huge  bulk  of,  333. 
Ottoman  rule,  belief  in  near  extinction  of, 

not  warranted  by  the  course  of  history, 

316. 
Ouardy,  Antoine,  our  guide's  quarrel  with, 

217-228. 

Pag.\s.sus,  Bay  of,  333. 

Palema,  St.,  silver  coffin  of,  331. 

Palestine,  the  construction  of  a  harbor  at 
Jaffa  the  first  step  towards  its  regenera- 
tion, 3;  its  people  must  learn  to  work 
before  it  can  be  redeemed,  8;  to  support 
Jews  or  Gentiles  by  charity  only  adds  to 
misery,  8  ;  withdrawal  of  Jews  suddenly 
from  business  would  cause  disaster,  but 
none  but  .Jews  would  oppose  their  migra- 
tion to  the  Uoly  Land,  9  ;  the  actual  boy 
here  not  the  Sunday-school  boy's  ideal 
at  home,  9  ;  Old  Put  more  to  him  than 
Samson,  9  ;  vast  yearly  movement  to,  71 ; 
to  obstruct  it  would  bring  on  another 
Holy  War,  71. 

Pallas  Athene,  sitting  in  Temple  of,  346. 

Pamphylia,  ancient  coast  of,  244. 

Pan  lurked  in  the  groves  about  Ephesos, 
261. 

Palmyra,  way  to,  211 ;  colonnade  at,  212. 

Panachaicum,  Mt.,  higher  than  Mt.  Wash- 
ington, 368. 

Panathcnaic  Stadium,  chariot  races  in,  862. 

Pangaus,  Mt.,  326. 

Panhellcnic  festivals  held  in  the  Isthmian 
Sanctuary,  367. 

Paphos,  ancient  coins  found  at,  235,  238 ; 
danger  of  excavations  at,  239:  Paul 
darkens  the  vision  of  Elymas  at,  239. 

Paradi.se,  Damascus  the  earthly,  182;  Tal- 
ley  of  the  Heavenly  Water  a  foretaste  of, 
312. 

Parchment  rolls,  few  genuine  ancient,  80. 

Parnassus,  heights  of,  seen  from  Penteli- 
cus,  359. 

Parnes,  838. 

Parthenon ,  creamy  columns  of,  345. 

Pasha,  an  interview  with  a,  223. 

Patched  clothing  the  last  confession  of  pov- 
erty, 324. 

Patmos,  glimpse  of,  250  ;  monastery  of  St. 
John  at,  250. 

Patras,  arrival  at,  368. 

Patriarch  of  Armenia,  visit  to,  141 ;  kindli- 
ness of,  142. 

Patroclus,  statue  of,  in  Museum  at  Athens, 
861. 

Pattens,  richly  ornamented,  199  ;  ungrace- 
ful walking  with,  200. 


Paul,  at  Ephesus,  265  ;  his  preaching  at 
Tliessnbiiiica,  330. 

Paula,  disciple  of  Jerome,  123  ;  mother-in- 
law  of  God,  124. 

Paxos,  legend  of,  recorded  by  Plutarch, 
370. 

Pegasus,  our  Arab  steed  a,  103  ;  race  for  an 
eagle's  feather  with,  104. 

Peleus,  father  of  Achilles,  335. 

Pelion,  Mt.,  331 ;  Ossa  might  well  ride  on 
back  of,  333. 

Peloponnesus,  people  of,  not  descended  from 
the  ancient  Greeks,  343  ;  passage  by ,  366. 

Pentelicus,  338,  351.  356 ;  plain  of  Mara- 
thon seen  finim,  357  ;  monastery  on,  a 
hive  of  drones,  358;  yearly  dance  of 
youths  and  maidens  on,  858  ;  marble  for 
Temple  of  Theseus,  the  Parthenon,  the 
Propytea,  and  other  public  buildings  tak- 
en from,  358  ;  whole  mountain  overgrown 
with  laurel,  358 ;  shepherd-boys  with 
their  crooks  and^flocks  of  goats  on ,  358  ; 
brigands  capture  a  party  of  Englishmen 
on,  358. 

Pera,  no  donkeys  or  drays  in, 279 ;  men  the 
beasts  of  burden ,  279. 

Perc-la-chaiee,  cemetery  of  Scutari  nearly 
as  attractive  as,  308. 

Pericles,  the  Propyla^a  built  under  direction 
of,  345. 

Perseus,  battle  of.withiEmiliusPaulus,  332. 

Persians,  camp  of,  on  Mts.  Scopus  and  Oli- 
vet, 61. 

Persuasion  and  Necessity  two  mighty  dei- 
ties of  Athens,  336. 

Petra,  renowned  sea-fortress  of,  314. 

Pfeiffer,  Madame,  why  not  admitted  to  con- 
vent of  Mar  Saba,  130. 

Phalerum,  Bay  of,  338,  347. 

Pharaoh,  Solomon'.^;  wife  daughter  of,  62. 

Pharpar,  glimpse  of,  211. 

Pharsalia,  Pompey's  flight  from  the  battle 
of,  333. 

Phidias,  statue  of  Minerva  Promachus  by, 
346. 

Philippi,  last  battle  of  republican  Rome 
fought  at,  326 ;  Paul's  preaching  and 
imprisonment  at,  326 ;  an  earthquake 
opens  his  prison,  Si6. 

Philistines,  extent  of  their  possessions,  82. 

Philopappus,  monument  of,  347. 

Phoenician  walls,  remains  of  ancient,  at 
Ba'albek,  167  ;  huge  stones  at,  167. 

Phoenicians,  country  of,  82  ;  first  gave  the 
world  letters,  154  ;  proviilcntial  protection 
of,  from  the  Jews  a  bles.siug  to  the  world, 
154  ;  arts  of,  154  ;  manufactures  of  glass 
by,  more  perfect  than  Egyptian,  155; 
great  navigators ,  157  ;  tlie  Y.'inkees  of  the 
Levant,  234;  allies  of  Thotmes  III.  in 
capture  of  Cyprus,  234. 

Phylactery,  description  and  use  of,  80. 

Pierian  plain,  332. 

Pilate,  house  of,  33,  34. 

Pilgrims  to  Jerusalem  an  interesting  study, 
71,115;  more  numerous  than  to  Mecca, 
71 ;  camp  of,  a  scene  of  credulity  and 
knavery,  110  ;  motley  ship-load  of,  243. 


INDEX. 


387 


Pfflaging  crusaders  and  contemptible  By- 
zantines, 333. 

Pion,  hill  of,  supposed  acropolis  of  Ephe- 
sus,  262,  263. 

Pirjeus,  peninsula  of  the,  338  ;  much  like 
an  American  town,  338 ;  fortified  by  The- 
mistocles,  338. 

Pisgah,  Mt.,100. 

Pisistratus,  Temple  of  Jupiter  begun  by, 
343. 

Plain  of  Sharon,  occupied  by  the  New  Eng- 
land Israel,  7  ;  massacre  of  Jaffa  occurred 
near  here,  12. 

Plataea,  battle  of,  295 ;  fieldof,  354. 

Plato's  grove  of  Academe,  355. 

Pleasure,  chase,  of,  305. 

Pnvx,  association  of  great  names  with  the, 
347,  361,  365. 

Poetry,  source  of  lyric,  268. 

Poets,  Oriental,  have  not  and  cannot  exag- 
gerate the  glories  of  the  Bosphorus,  310. 

Poison,  the  cure-all  and  end-all  of  the  luli- 
ans,  336. 

Polycrates,  once  governor  of  Samos,  251. 

Pompey,  halt  of  in  the  Vale  of  Tempe  after 
Pharsalia,  333. 

Pontifical  Rome  less  tolerant  of  Protestant- 
ism thaa  Moslem  Turkey,  317. 

Pontus  Euxiaus  once  set  thick  with  towns 
like  the  Riviera  of  Italy,  314. 

Porch,  Solomon's,  more  grand  than  Baby- 
lon or  Ba'albek,  61. 

Port  Said,  arrival  at,  April  5th,  1. 

PosiUo,  Cape  of,  333. 

Post,  Dr.,  of  Beyrout,  215. 

Potter's  Field,  68. 

Poverty  and  Inability  two  churlish  gods 
of  the  Andrians,  336. 

Prayer,  rush  of  crowd  to  see  Sultan  go  to, 
300 ;  grand  salvos  of  artillery  announce 
the  beginning  of  his  devotions,  .301. 

Praxiteles,  statue  of  Venus  by,  249. 

Precious  stones,  great  traffic  in,  throughout 
the  East,  282  ;  bargaining  for,  with  an  an- 
cient Moslem,  283. 

Press,  good  work  of  the,  in  Beyrout,  215. 

Prince  of  Oldenbvu-g,  144. 

Printing  in  Greece,  rude  character  of,  .341. 

Procession  to  the  Fair  of  Moses,  144  ;  irreg- 
ular order  of,  145 ;  cheap  and  childish 
display,  146. 

Prodigal  son,  fed  on  husks  of  the  carob- 
tree,  13. 

Promised  Land,  extent  of,  82  ;  self-denial 
of  many  to  see,  208. 

Prophet,  last  companions  of  the,  fell  at 
Ayub,  305. 

Propytea,  the  noblest  gateway  ever  built, 
344  ;  pride  of  the  ancients,  345. 

Proserpine,  myth  of,  354. 

Prussian  government  exploring  neighbor- 
hood of  Jerusalem,  65  ;  importance  of  its 
discoveries,  65. 

Ptolemy,  ancient  cities  of  Cyprus  described 
by,  2.36. 

Purity  maintained  by  flight  of  nymphs  from 
Keos,  a36. 

Pydna,  grand  battle  of,  332. 


Pyramids,  time  of  the  building  of,  179. 
Pythagoras,  birthplace  of,  251. 

Quadrennial  Exposition  of  Greece,  visit  to, 
a  rude  shock  to  the  sentiment  of  an- 
ticLuity,  341. 

QuaUs  scudding  along  th»  surface,  13. 

Quarantania,  mount  of  Christ's  temptation, 
honeycombed  with  hermits'  cells,  100. 

Quarrel  of  dragomen,  217-228. 

Rachel,  burial-place  of,  118 ;  building  over, 
119. 

Bae,  Edward,  our  cart-ride  in  Cyprus 
sketched   by,  232. 

Ramah  and  Gath,  David's  dodging  between, 
21. 

Rameses  11.,  statue  of,  361. 

Ramleh,  rough  road  to,  11 ;  square  Sara- 
cenic tower  at,  14  ;  Latiu  convent  at,  14 ; 
its  gratuitous  hospitality  a  pleasing  delu- 
sion, 14 ;  house  all  roofs,  14  ;  sunset  from , 
14 ;  sound  of  mule-bells  brings  Italy  to 
Palestine,  15 ;  pompous  reception  of  our 
party  at,  15;  "  General  "-ized  by  the 
father  confessor,  a  "rank"  imposition, 
15 ;  lighted  to  bed  by  antique  Roman 
lamps,  16;  room  like  a  tomb,  16;  most 
rural  ruins  seen  in  the  East,  150;  de- 
lightful view  from,  150. 

Red  Khan,  scene  of  the  Jerichoian's  en- 
counter with  the  thieves,  94. 

Rehoboam,  visit  of,  to  Jeroboam  a  rough 
chariot-ride,  69. 

Relics,  abundance  of,  to  worship  in  Jerusa- 
lem, 54. 

Religious  toleration  in  the  Levant  granted 
by  the  Turks  before  the  Romans,  310, 317. 

Revelations,  place  of  the  writing  of  the,  250. 

Rheiti,  the  salt-springs,  352. 

Rhode  Island,  Athens  only  two  thirds  as 
large  as,  338. 

Rhodes,  city  of,  made  memorable  by  the 
Knights  of,  64  ;  picturesque  site  of,  245  ; 
ancient  splendor  of,  246  ;  artistic  remains 
of  the  Knights  in,  247 ;  cleanly  and 
healthy,  248  ;  possible  restoration  of,  252. 

Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  in  Cyprus,  230,  235. 

Riha,  on  site  of  the  ancient  Gilgal,  96. 

Road  to  Jerusalem  a  hard  road  to  travel,  13. 

Roads  in  Palestine  rough,  stony  mule-paths, 
128. 

Roberts  College,  night  spent  with  Dr.  TVash- 
burne  at,  297  ;  commanding  site  of,  like 
West  Point,  298 ;  wisely  planted  here, 
299. 

Robinson's  Arch,  44. 

Rocks,  silicious  limestone,  give  the  country 
an  ashy  appearance,  21. 

Roman  Empire,  332. 

Romance,  mythology,  history,  start  up  ev- 
erywhere in  Grecian  waters,  336. 

Rome,  conquering  eagles  of,  61. 

Rose  of  Sharon  probably  not  a  rose  at  all,  14. 

Russian  Church  in  Athens,  no  seats  in,  347 ; 
form  of  worship  in,  348. 

Russian  hospice,  appearance  of,  24 ;  de- 
scription of,  72 ;  great  variety  of  its  pil- 


388 


INDEX. 


grim  guests,  73;  curious  relics  collected 
by,  73  ;  awe  and  wonder  these  will  excite 
at  home,  73. 
Ruth,  place  of  her  meeting  with  Boaz,  118, 
121. 

Sabas,  St.  ,  a  mon^  of  Christian  manliness 
ajB  well  as  sanctity,  127 ;  tomb  of^  131 ; 
cell  of,  a  lion's  den,  138. 

Sacred  edifices,  difference  between  Qreek, 
Roman,  and  Egyptian,  171. 

Sacred  Uock,  Mahomet's  ascent  from,  67; 
its  miraculous  suspension,  57  ;  place  of 
prayer  of  Jesus,  Abraham,  David,  and 
Solomon,  58. 

Sail  through  summer  seas,  242. 

Saladin,  citadel  of,  25;  military  headquar- 
ters of,  05  ;  tomb  of,  in  business  part  of 
Damascus,  188. 

Salaliiyih,  ride  to,  210. 

Salamis,  founded  by  Teucer,  234  ;  retreat  of 
Greek  ships  to,  iiflcr  Thermopylae,  334  ; 
beautj'  of  its  women  keeps  up  its  fame, 
334 ;  tomb  of  Themistocles  in  sight  of, 
338  ;  bleak  and  rocky  island  of,  352. 

Salouica,  (Julfof,  331. 

Samaria,  highway  to,  69. 

Samos,  isle  of,  251 ;  its  wine  more  noted 
than  its  arts  or  its  heroes,  251 ;  birth- 
place of  Pythagoras,  251. 

Samothruce,  325 ;  sunset  view  of,  327. 

Sauison,  country  of,  19. 

Samuel,  ashes  of  tlip  Prophet,  deposited  in 
Church  of  St.  Sophia,  291. 

Santa  Croce,  mountain  of,  229. 

Sappho  lived  at  Lesbos,  208 ;  description 
and  death  of,  269 ;  precipice  leaped  from 
by,  370. 

Saracens,  Olivet  and  Scopus  trodden  by ,  62 ; 
wall  built  by,  167. 

Sardis,  Smyrna  older  than,  256;  beautiful 
country  around,  258. 

Sargon  conquers  Cyprus,  234. 

Saul,  flight  of.  from  David,  21. 

Scanderbeg,  sword  of,  kept  as  a  relic,  288. 

Scio  ravaged  by  the  Turks,  253. 

Scutari,  on  site  of  the  Greek  and  Persian 
Chry.sopolis,  306;  important  place  from 
earliest  times,  306 ;  hunting-place  of  Ro- 
man and  Byzantine  emperors,  31)6;  ar- 
rival and  stiirting-place  of  ancient  East- 
ern travel,  3l)6  ;  cemetery  of,  preferred  to 
that  of  Evoub,  307  :  mumbled  service  of 
English  church  at,  309. 

Search  for  a  silver  coin  in  Rhodes,  248. 

Sea-robbers,  the  Greek,  hauled  up  their 
barks  at  Scutari,  306. 

Seat  of  Solomon  in  no  particular  spot,  41. 

Selim,  old  mosque  of  the  Sultan  at  Ayaso- 
look,  259 ;  noted  for  the  two  councils 
held  in  it,  259. 

Sepulchral  sleeping-place,  1^. 

Sepulchre,  Church  of  the  Holy,  25 :  credu- 
lity shaken  by  seeing  too  many  of  them, 
26;  shut  in  by  houses,  26;  lane  leading 
to  it  noisy  with  potty  traffic.  27  ;  made 
more  a  den  of  thieves  than  a  place  of  holy 
resort,  27 ;  so  many  times  destroyed  and 


rebuilt,  its  site  in  doubt,  28  ;  a  Turk  war- 
den of,  29 ;  pilgrims  from  all  countries 
crowding  in  and  out  of,  30 ;  solemuity 
of  scene  within,  30;  rough  sepulchral 
stone  worn  smooth  by  kissing,  3U ;  some 
approach  it  with  streaming  eyes,  all  in 
awe  of  the  sacred  place,  30;  description 
of,  47;  centre  of  the  earth  in,  48;  im- 
pious specimen  of  beggars  at,  48 ;  holy 
fire  at,  52  ;  holy  places  of,  53. 

Seraglio  of  Stamboul,  visit  to,  285 ;  lovely 
situation  for  a  royaJ  seat,  285 ;  hundreds 
of  beasts  slaughtered  to  feed  the  house- 
hold, 286;  treasure-room  of,  richest  in 
the  world,  286 ;  eye  weary  of  seeing  the 
barbarous  display,  287. 

Seraglio  Point,  heights  of,  278. 

Seven  Sleepers,  cave  ofi  at  Ephesus,  262, 263. 

Seven  wonders  of  the  world.  Temple  of  Di- 
ana one  of  the,  262. 

Shade-trees  in  Athens,  utility  and  ei^oy- 
ment  of,  340. 

Shepherd  Kings,  or  Hittites,  Abraham's 
visit  to  Egypt  in  reign  of,  179. 

Shepherds,  place  of  angeb  appearing  to,  122. 

Shimci,  pursuit  of  David  by,  61. 

Shoemaker,  a  self-denying,  spiritual-minded, 
208. 

Shcepira  collection  of  ancient  pottery,  doubt- 
ful antiquity  of,  81. 

Sidon,  sight  of,  156  ;  oldest  Phoenician  city, 
a  heap  of  ruins,  156 ;  arts  and  arms  of^ 
sung  by  Uomer,  157. 

Silk  bazaars  of  Damascus,  193 ;  great  traffic 
in,  194. 

Siloam,  Pool  of,  32  ;  village  of,  a  nest  of 
huts  and  caves,  62  ;  not  a  sweet  "  shady 
rill,''  but  a  dirty  sink-hole,  67  ;  its  trad- 
ers hungrier  than  its  beggars,  67  ;  most 
disgusting  place  in  the  East,  67. 

Simon,  the  tanner,  house  of,  where  Peter 
saw  the  vision,  6  ;  spot  where  the  broth- 
erhood of  man  was  first  proclaimed,  6 ; 
the  Cyrenian,  bearer  of  the  cross,  33 ;  the 
leper,  77. 

Singing,  nasal  whine  of,  in  the  East,  332. 

Skiatho.s,  island  of,  334. 

Skopelos,  .Mt  ,334. 

Skyros,  Achilles  hidden  among  the  maidens 
of,  in  woman's  apparel,  335. 

Smoking  customs  of  different  nations,  181. 

Smyrna,  2.55 ;  difficult  landing  at,  like  Jafb, 
255  ;  a  city  which  is  nothing  and  every- 
thing, 265 ;  like  Damascus,  has  endured 
through  all  changes  of  rulers  and  condi- 
tions and  continued  prosperous  under 
all,2.T6;  language  and  dress  like  that  of 
European  cities,  257 ;  charms  against  evil 
sold  in,  263  :  departure  from,  267. 

Socrates,  prison  of,  347,  362;  walks  and 
talks  of  Plato  with,  355  ;  last  immortal 
discourse  of,  362 

Soldiers  seen  everywhere  in  European  cities, 
843 :  bar  with  bayonets  the  way  to  objects 
of  interest,  .373. 

Soli,  Cesnola's  discoveries  in,  238. 

Solomon,  Pool  of,  source  of  all  the  other 
"pools,"   28;   mother  oi,  26;   sMt  ot. 


INDEX. 


389 


41 ;  itables  of,  60 ;  Garden  of,  an  arid 

spot,  67 ;  quarries  of,  70. 

Solon,  Demosthenes,  and  his  great  com- 
peers, 347. 

Sophia,  Church  of  Santa,  the  House  of  Di- 
Tine  Wisdom,  288  ;  Justinian's  exclama- 
tion on  entering,  288 ;  ecUpsed  the  gran- 
deur of  the  Temple  of  Jeru^em,  289  ;  all 
the  world  brought  to  contribute  to  its 
splendor,  289  ;  wonderful  dome  of,  289  ; 
grand  proportions  of  the  interior,  290  ; 
site  of,  flooded  with  historical  associa- 
tions, 291. 

Sophocles,  the  sacred  Colonus  celebrated  by, 
as  the  scene  of  the  death  of  Oidipus,  355. 

Spanish  spoken  by  Jews  of  Jerusalem,  43. 

Sparta,  not  jealous  of  the  attempt  to  reviTe 
the  ancient  games  in  Athens,  363. 

Spies,  escape  of,  from  Jericho,  191. 

Sporades,  group  of  the,  334. 

Stables,  Solomon's,  a  wet  underground 
carem,  60 ;  unpleasant  visit  to,  60. 

Stadium  at  Ephesus,  263. 

St.  Anne,  convent  of,  34. 

Stamboul,  at  night,  276 ;  bridge  at,  rotten 
like  the  Sultan's  empire,  280  ;  bazaars  of, 
more  magnificent  than  any  other  in  the 
East,  281 ;  its  mosques  and  bazaars  its 
chief  attraction,  284;  Seraglio  of,  285; 
fine  view  from ,  286  ;  world  shudders  at 
unrevealed  secrets  of,  287  ;  a  place  of  gor- 
geous sepulture,  293 ;  splendid  spectacle 
of  blazing  windows  and  minarets  at,  306. 

Star  of  Bethlehem,  and  other  flowers  of  the 
East,  18. 

Steamer  to  Corinth  crowded  with  noisy  pol- 
iticians ,  367. 

St.  James,  tomb  of,  62. 

St.  John,  Knights  of,  32  ;  romance  of,  64  ; 

their  glory  in  the  Levant,  64  ;  hospice  of, 

148, 150  ;  headquarters  of,  at  Akka,  153 ; 

.     massive  walls  of,  at  Ehodes,  245  ;  Church 

of,  in  Ephesus,  260. 

St.  John  the  Baptist,  burthplace  of,  22 ;  head 
of,  kept  in  gold  casket,  186  ;  tomb  of,  in 
Damascus,  187. 

St.  Luke,  tomb  of,  263. 

Storks,  the  sacred  birds,  feeding  in  the 
meadows,  13  ;  conspicuous  perching  of, 
on  tombs  and  towers,  in  ruins  of  Ayaso- 
look,  2.59. 

Stone  of  Unction,  pilgrims  kneeling  on,  29. 

Stones,  precious,  extensive  trade  in,  283. 

Story  of  an  English  physician  in  the  East, 
317. 

Stoura,  jolly  inn  at ,  172. 

St.  Paul,  place  of  his  escape  from  Damascus 
in  a  basket,  191 ;  prison  of,  at  Ephesus, 
263. 

St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  colossal  proportions  of, 
290. 

Strabo,  ancient  cities  of  Cyprus  mentioned 
by,  236. 

St.  Stephen,  place  of  martyrdom  of,  40. 
St.  Stephen's  Gate,  33, 127. 

St.  Veronica,  house  of,  33. 
Sty li tea,  Simeon,  pillar  of,  said  to  be  near 
Beshiktaeb,  310. 


Sublime  Porte,  world  known  gate  of  the, 
285,  294. 

Sugar-cane,  evidence  of,  former  cultivation 
of,  by  the  Crusaders,  96. 

Suleiman  the  Magnificent ,  citadel  of,  35  ; 
defence  of  Knights  against,  at  Rhodes, 
247  ;  mosque  of,  292. 

Sunium,  Temple  of  Minerva  on,  337. 

Sunset  on  the  Bosphorus,  306,  316  ;  on  the 
Mgea,n,  327  ;  in  the  ruins  of  the  Temple 
of  Jupiter  at  Athens,  343,  347. 

Superstition  clung  to  more  persistently  by 
Christians  than  Moslems,  133. 

Susanna,  confusion  of,  35. 

Sweet  Waters  of  Europe,  303. 

Syme,  island  of,  249. 

Symplegades,  halt  of  the  Argonauts  at,  314. 

Synagogues  ill  kept,  43. 

Syria,  only  good  road  in,  159  ;  needs  prac- 
tical, working,  living  Christianity  for  its 
reformation,  163 ;  fearful  condition  of 
people  of,  203. 

Syrian  horses  not  reliable  beasts,  128. 

Syrian  house, peculiar  characteristics  of,  166. 

Syrian  rivers,  sudden  appearance  and  dis- 
appearance of,  166. 

Taking   a  bath  at  Damascus,  189 ;    deli- 

ciousness  of,  190. 
Tamerlane,  Ayasolook  once  the  camp  of, 

258  ;  armlet  of,  288. 
Tarshish,  dealings  of,  with  Jafia,  2. 
Teloe,  passing  island  of,  249. 
Tempe,  Vale  of,  3.32. 
Temple,  Solomon's,  45 ;  Beautifvd  Gate  of, 

54  ;  splendor  of  the  area,  55. 
Temple  of  the  Sun,  remains  of,  atBa'albek, 

168  ;  splendor  of,  greater  than  imagined, 

168 ;  defaced  by  Moslems,  168. 
Temptation,  light  on  Mount  of,  112. 
Tenedos  passed  in  the  night,  270,  273  ;  seen 

on  return,  325. 
Ten  Tribes,  the  extinction  of,  85. 
Tents,  picturesque  appearance   of,  among 

the  olive-trees  of  Mt.  Olivet,  74. 
Teucer,  founder  of  Salamis,  234. 
Thasos,  home  of  the  poet  Archilochus,  325 ; 

pristine  luxuriance  of  the  vegetation  of, 

325. 
Thebes ,  remains  of,  3.54. 
Themistocles,  his   siege    of  Andros,  336 ; 

tcBnb  of,  in  the  Pirseus,  338. 
Theodora,  Mosque  of  St.   Sophia  seat  of, 

291. 
Theodosius,  basilica  buUt  in  reign  of,  169  ; 

atrocious  brutality  of,  in   Thessalonica, 

330. 
"  There  is  no  God  but  God,  and  Mohammed 

is  his  Prophet,"  292. 
Therma,  ancient  name  of    Thessalonica, 

328  ;  Gulf  of,  332. 
Thermopylae,  detfeat  at,  334. 
Theseus,  bones  of,  found  by  Cymon,335; 

Temple  of,  the  best  preserved,  and  if  the 

only  one  would  be  worth  a  pilgrimage  to 

see,  360. 
Thessalonians  of  the  present  day  do  not 

read  the  Epistles  to  the,  332. 


390 


INDEX. 


Thessalonica  shortened  to  Salonica,  328 ; 
conjuriog  up  the  history  of  the  past  in, 
328 ;  description  of,  328 ;  Byzantine  re- 
mains at,  329  ;  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia  in, 
329  ;  quarter  of  descendants  of  Jews  ex- 
pelled by  Isabella,  329 ;  barbarity  of 
Theodosius  in,  330  ;  Mosque  of  St.  George 
the  oldest  church  in,  330. 

Thessaly,  plains  of,  333 ;  perfect  horseman- 
ship of  the  people  of,  gave  rise  to  the  fable 
of  the  Centaurs,  &33. 

"  The  world  grows  old."  303. 

Thief,  the  penitent,  birthplace  of,  19. 

"Thirty  Years  in  a  Turkish  Uarem"  written 
by  the  estranged  mie  of  an  English  phy- 
sician, 319. 

Thotmes  III.,  greatest  of  the  Pharaohs, 
possession  of  Syria  and  Cyprus  by,  234. 

Thracian  coast,  326,  333. 

Throni,  ancient  city  of,  traced  out  by  Ces- 
nola,  238. 

Tiglath-Pileser  attempts  destruction  of 
Damascus,  179. 

Tiles,  a  bit  of  experience  in  buying,  194. 

Timnatb,  where  Zorah  got  his  Philistine 
wife,  20. 

Timothy,  St.,  reburiedin  Church'of  St.  So- 
phia, 291. 

Titus,  destruction  of  Jerusalem  by,  33,  42. 

Toleration  will  vet  make  the  Archipelago 
the  Paradise  of  the  world,  333. 

Tombs  of  the  Sultans  at  Stawboul,  293. 

Tombs  of  Iliram,  Frederick  Barbarossa,  and 
Origen  near  together,  155. 

Tophanna,  quay  of,  277,  278. 

Tophet,  valley  of,  t>8,  127. 

Tralles,  ancient,  257 ;  great  tanneries  of, 
2.58. 

Transfiguration,  mosaic  of,  in  Mosque  of  St. 
8ophia,  in  .Salonica,  329. 

Travellers,  specimen  of  Eastern,  205. 

Travelling  in  Palestine,  difference  between 
present  and  p.ist,  99  ;  French  system  of, 
peculiar  and  particular,  175. 

Tricks  of  trade  in  purchase  of  antiques,  195. 

Trinity  of  tyranny,  religion,  and  faction  at 
Stamboul,  294. 

Triumphal  Entry,  road  of  the,  77  ;  grand 
p.igeant  on,  145. 

Trojan  war,  Tyre  built  about  the  time  of, 
154. 

Troy  not  seen,  270,  273;  glimpse  of  the 
plain  of,  325. 

Truth  stranger  than  fiction  in  the  life  of 
an  Eastern  beauty,  317. 

Tsur  or  Sur,  "  the  rock,"  Arab  name  of 
Tyre,  153. 

Tuiieries  "grander  than  the  Pyramids," 
206 

Turf  dcUght  at  seeing  in  the  East  our  New 
England,  313. 

Turkish  women,  intrigue  of.  .318 

Turks,  Holy  Sepulchre  guarded  by,  29; 
nerve  of,  in  putting  down  the  Janizaries, 
295  :  destructiveness  of,  greater  than  that 
of  all  their  predecessors,  333. 

Turquoise  stones,  rare  and  costly,  trade  in, 


Tyre,  passage  past,  153;  Hiram's  tomb  at, 

155. 
Tyrophoean  Valley,  45. 

Ulysses  and  Penelope,  stories  of,  370. 

UncleanUness  in  the  East  akin  to  godUness, 
126. 

University  of  Athens,  progressive  influence 
of,  349  ;  Ubrary  of,  349  ;  portrait  or  bust 
of  Washington  wanted  for,  350. 

Uriah,  Darid  smitten  by  wife  of,  35. 

Vale  of  the  Heavenly  Water,  298,  303. 

Vale  of  Tempe,  the  sunny  retreat  of  the 
Gods,  332. 

Valley  of  the  Jordan,  memorable  night  in, 
100  ;  depth  of,  below  the  sea,  10(1 ;  danger 
of  camp  in,  101 ;  geological  peculiarity  of, 
110. 

Veils  in  the  East  not  worn  to  conceal  beauty 
so  much  as  ugliness,  212. 

Venetians,  ancient  manufacture  of  glass  by 
the  Phrenicians  revived  by,  155. 

Venus,  steamer,  departure  from  Jaf&  in, 
152 ;  discomfort  of  the  pilgrim  passengers 
on,  152  ;  circular  temple  of,  at  Ba'albek, 
1G9  \  temple  of,  in  Golgoa  discovered  by 
Cesnola,  237  :  shrine  and  statue  of,  in 
Cnidus,  249;   born  of  the  sea-foam,  369. 

Via  Dolorosa,  a  narrow,  gloomy  thorough- 
fare, 33. 

Via  Sacra,  ancient  proces-sions  in,  346,  351. 

Vice  has  saved  the  names  of  emperors,  295. 

Virgin  and  Child,  painted  hlack.  17. 

Virgin  Mary,  Fountain  of  the,  32,  06  ;  place 
of  rc.iidence  and  death  of,  40 ;  place  of 
appearance  of  the  Lord  to,  50. 

Viva  Maria,  our  salutation  on  returning  to 
a  Chrbtian  land,  374. 

Wadt  'Alt,  inn  at,  150. 

Wady  nammlna,  161. 

Wallers  of  Damascus,  192. 

Wailing-place  of  the  Jews,  35  J  Lamenta- 
tions and  Psalms  read  at,  45 ;  a  grotesque 
a.sseml>lage,  46. 

Wandering  Jew,  house  of  the,  33. 

Washburne,  Dr.,  President  of  Roberts  Col- 
lege. 297. 

Washington,  "  nothing  can  beat  the  Capitol 
at,"  206. 

Way  of  Triumph,  Christ's  entry  of  Jerusa- 
lem by,  61. 

Well  of  the  Leaf,  entrance  to  Paradise  fi-om, 
60  ;  of  Bethlehem,  David's  thirst  for  the 
waters  of,  126 

Western  civilization  and  business  hahits  will 
chanjre  the  character  of  the  Biist,  317. 

"  WiMerne.ss  of  Judwa,"  our  wTong  notions 
of,  91 ;  a  scene  of  utt^r  de.soliition,  92 

Wild-flowers,  fields  carp<>ted  with,  14 ;  bril- 
liancy of,  about  Ramleh,  IS. 

Wine  of  Mar  Saba  liquid  sunshine,  134. 

Wingless  Victory,  Temple  of  the,  345 

Women,  rule  and  ruin  of  .Solomon  by,  62; 
Fountain  of  .\ccused.  fii') :  drinking  of,  tost 
of  purity,  66;  veiled  Turkish,  like  8heet«d 
ghosts,  74;  by  the  Jordan,  like  women 


INDEX. 


391 


the  world  over,  complain  of  injustice  of 
men,  112;  Moslem,  like  Indian  squaws, 
119 ;  form  in  which  the  Devil  appeared 
to  the  hermits  of  the  early  ages,  130  ;  of 
Cyprus,  not  beauties,  233  ;  changes  of  the 
world  due  to  restlessness  of,  327 ;  best 
preserve  the  primeval  traits,  372. 
♦Vood,  Rev.  Mr.,  entertained  by,  at  Zahleh, 
164;  Mr.,  ofEphesus,261. 

Xanthus,  mysterious  light  of,  244. 

Xenophon  rested  at  Scutari  after  his  cam- 
paign against  Cyrus,  306. 

Xerxes,  children  of,  sheltered  by  Artemisia 
after  battle  of  Salamis,  265;  crossing 
of  the  Dardanelles  at  Abydos  by,  274  ; 
ancient  canal  of,  near  Mt.  Athos,  326 ; 
broken  and  flying  fleet  of,  338  ;  a  petty 
fight  in  comparison  with  modem  naval 
battles,  but  freighted  with  momentous 


consequences,  347  ;    "  rocky  brow  "    on 
which  he  sat  spectator  of  the  fight,  352. 

Yankee,  dialect  of  the,  heard  in  Jaffa,  9 ; 
encounter  with  the,  takes  romance  out 
of  the  East,  11  ;  Phoenicians  like  the,  234. 

Zacharlas,  tomb  of,  62. 

Zacynthus  renowned  for  its  hospitality,  369. 

Zahleh,  curious  town  of,  162  ;  burnt  by  the 

Druses  in  1860, 162. 
Zamzummim,  tribe  of,  157. 
Zante,  welcomed  to,  with  flowers  and  fruit, 

369. 
Zeno,  birthplace  of,  231. 
Zeuxippus,  Nestorius  looking  for  help  from, 

in  the  Council  of  Ephesus,  260. 
Zion,  palace  on,  built  by  David,  35 ;  Gate  of, 

38 ;  Mount,  45. 
Zorah,  countiy  of,  20. 


THE   END. 


II 


sm^h 


r»A  ; 


ui-LA-Young   Research    Library 

DS45   .W24i    1876 


lllirilllllllllllMIIIIIIIII 

L  009  616   823  2 


AA       001336  438        5 


